A Cinderella Nightmare
by LeFemmeChevalier
Summary: "...My name is Lucy Quinn Fabray, and I'm about to tell you a tale of how I fell in love with Princess Charming and how I never stood a chance right from the start." [Rachel/Quinn]
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I have some ideas for this that I've yet to type, but I have a pretty good idea on how this'll play out.

**Disclaimer:** The show and its characters belong to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

* * *

**Prologue: **Debunking Cinderella

* * *

Are you familiar with the story of _Cinderella_? Of course you are, _silly_, unless you live under a rock for most of your childhood.

That's just sad.

So for those who aren't familiar (is that even possible?), it's about a girl called - you _guessed_ it - Cinderella who was exploited into slavery by her step-sisters and step-mom. Then one fateful night, she was whisked away by Prince Charming after a series of events involving a plump fairy godmother, a pumpkin transformer, a handful of annoying mice, and a pair of impractical glass slippers.

At least, that's what Walt Disney showed us.

Of course, not _every_ happily ever after is complete without a conflict that involves one protagonist running away and leaving behind a glass slipper that'll eventually be the key into finding each other again.

_Pftttt_, what a load of crap.

I mean, really? That's awfully _unrealistic_.

I know, I know. You're probably saying: "Hey moron! It's a _fairy tale_, for christ's sake."

First of all, I'm _not_ a moron, although I've made more mistakes than I care to admit. I'm just trying to make an accurate observation here, people, so let's not resort into name-calling.

Second of all, fairy tales are for children, right? At least that's what I gathered from watching Disney when I was younger.

So, I ask you this, my fellow-minded adults: are you that _heartless_ that you would wish to continuously expose your kids into a world of fantasy that, when they eventually grow up, will cause them to have unrealistic expectations in life?

Because that's _exactly_ what these stories are doing: they're setting up an unrealistic future scenario that'll probably disappoint and depress these children if their life didn't turn out like those in fairy tales.

Lastly, the story is awfully dodgy and full of bad metaphors. I mean, a fairy godmother who just showed up out of _nowhere_ to aid a distressed maiden? Pffft, more like a pimp scouting and grooming a less-fortunate girl to be a "professional escort" if you ask me.

Am I right? Of course I am, you _naive_ person.

And _helpful_, talking mice? More like a metaphor for _slaves_ who were looked down as sub-humans that they became comparable to stinky, dirty rodents.

That's inhumanely evil, you _villain._

Transforming pumpkin? More a metaphor for how much the girls are willing to _fake_ just to catch a good man. Or, it could be a _really_ good acid-trip.

Yeah, let's go with acid-trip, you _druggie._

And glass slippers? Before getting into that, I wanna explain _why_ the woman of old times made sure to cover their ankles and feet. Exposing their ankles and feet is similar to, well, _flashing_. So, you can imagine how the boys get excited when they get a peek of _that_.

Knowing all this, do you realize how having an almost transparent glass slippers is comparable to having a see-through _brassiere_?

It's so... medieval-dirty, you _pervert._

Of course, you would probably say that I'm being ridiculous and making up baseless theories behind a perfectly innocent story. Fine, assuming that I am, but do you know what else you're doing? You're drilling into the minds of these impressionable children that there's _only_ black and white in morality.

By exposing them to these atrocious fairy tales, you're subjecting them to _bigotry_.

For example, how about second chances? Like, what the hell happened to the step-sisters and the step-mom _after_ Cinderella's happily ever after? Did Cinderella ordered a hit on them because she's rich now? Or did she forgave them?

There's _nothing_ in the story about forgiveness, so ha! Take that!

Also, did the prince even _knew_ of the step-sisters' names? Is he even aware of how they're also pinning for his attention?

No! Because he only has eyes for the beautiful Cinderella whom he only met for a few hours in a manner that seems _suspiciously_ like an anonymous hook-up.

Yeaahh... Did you even think about _that_?

And are you people even certain that the step-sisters are only after his wealth and not because they _genuinely_ like him? How _sure_ are you that Cinderella is not a gold-digger herself, only with an unfortunate life? Wouldn't it make more sense that she's hungry for revenge and desperate for escape from her miserable life that she _schemed_ her way into the prince's affection?

Maybe the story is a cover-up; a ploy of Cinderella to ensure that she is portrayed as the innocent and charming little girl and _not_ as the gold-digger that she could be.

That makes much more sense to me.

But _nooo_, that's not how it goes. Because it's all about Cinderella: the pretty, vulnerable, amazing girl with a golden heart.

You're probably all confused about my - amazingly accurate - tirade about this story, like it did me personal wrong.

Well, it _did_.

You know why? Because I'm the _step-sister_ in this awful Cinderella-like story.

My name is Lucy Quinn Fabray, and I'm about to tell you a tale of how I fell in love with Princess Charming and how I never stood a chance right from the start.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Cinderella Nightmare

* * *

** A/N:** This is it, and I'm gonna give you all a heads-up that I'm an irregular updater. I promise that it won't take more than a month, though. Or two months. Three months? *shrugs*

Okay! It won't take half a year for the next update, I promise. *awkward smile* Also, this story is Cinderella-like, not Cinderella-based. Just putting that out there.

Enjoy. Review if you must.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

* * *

**Chapter One: **The Pillaging of The Village  


Hasty footsteps thundered loudly as the person descended down the stairs in a hurry. The two heads on the breakfast table looked up and saw the teenage girl wearing skinny jeans and an off-shoulder white top. The woman at the table imperceptibly narrowed her hazel eyes at her jogging daughter while the man's light blue ones crinkled fondly.

"Good morning, honey," the man's warm baritone called out from behind the morning newspaper. Russell smiled fondly at the blonde girl - who is now skipping much to the older woman's chagrin - towards the mahogany dining table laden with a wide assortment of breakfast choices.

"Morning daddy!" the blonde chirped, kissing her father's cheek and cringing playfully at the feel of his stubbly face. The man just chuckled and patted the blonde girl's head which earned him a scowl and an I'm-not-a-child-anymore-daddy comment.

From the man's opposite side, the stern-looking older blonde is now sporting a slightly amused smile at the affectionate sight. "Sit down, Lucy. The food will get cold," the woman finally said, pointing at a chair.

Scowling, the blonde whined, "Mom! I told you to stop calling me Lucy! I hate that name."

The older blonde raised an impeccable eyebrow and addressed her daughter, "it's your given name, Lucy. Stop being a child and sit down."

Muttering under her breath, the blonde girl petulantly sat down on one the dining chairs and reached out for the salad bowl and some pre-sliced apples and oranges. She resisted the urge to reach out for the plate of bacon and grabbed the pitcher of orange juice instead, but not without giving a furtive longing look at her father munching on a large strip.

Russell didn't miss the strange look between his daughter and his bacon strip and glanced at her plate. "What's with the rabbit food, honey?" he joked, reaching out for another strip and started biting into with exaggerated slowness to further rile up the glaring blonde.

"Daddy," she glowered, her glare in full force against the amused man. "The cheerleading tryouts are this week. I can't afford to pig out, so I need to start eating healthy."

The man hummed in response, looking pensive as he continue to bite on his bacon. "Is Sylvester still the coach of Fruit Loops?"

"Cheerios! It's _Cheerios_, daddy!" the blonde girl screeched indignantly. "Stop making fun of me..." the blonde whined, casting a furtive glance on the bacon now and then.

"Russell, stop mocking your daughter," the older blonde scolded her husband with a glare. When the man raised his hands in surrender, she turned her attention towards her pouting daughter. "We support you, honey. And we're proud of you for doing this."

The girl ceased her pouting and smiled gratefully at her mother. After that, the breakfast continued with Quinn trying to force down the salad on her plate and with Russell regaling them with tales about his work.

"I mean, I know that they have the money, but is it practical to build a private museum dedicated for Broadway memorabilia _inside_ their mansion? It's a huge area, mind you, and no one is even allowed inside except the Berrys. It's ridiculously impractical."

Quinn is only half-listening, used to his father's anecdotes and stories about his clients. But her ears perked up at the mention of the Berrys and Broadway.

"Stop complaining, Rus. The Berrys have paid you enough for their renovations. Unless their commission is impossible to meet, it is not your place to question their decisions however impractical it is."

"I'm not complaining, Judy. I'm just stating my opinion over the matter. Besides, you know Leroy is an old friend, so I'm just being a good friend by _questioning_ his and his husband's sanity." He nodded resolutely, wiping the grease off his hands with a table cloth.

The older blonde just rolled her eyes at her husband, but nonetheless didn't disagree to her husband's statement. Russell Fabray and Leroy Berry are friends since high school. They grew up together in the small town of Lima, Ohio and went at the same college.

When Leroy came out at their senior year in McKinley, Russell became his only defendant against the gay bashing in their school. The hot-headed teenager would beat up bully after bully just to protect his quiet and studious friend. And after a particularly brutal fight where a jock bashed Russell's head with a baseball bat, Leroy finally fought back.

A concussion and a trip to the hospital later, the duo was never bothered again and the bullying finally stopped. But not without a year worth of detention for fighting in school grounds and expulsion for the jocks involved. Despite it all, Russell and Leroy knew it was worth it and further cemented a strong sense of camaraderie between the two.

The younger and older blonde knew the story, of course. The Berrys has always been a constant in their lives.

"Dad, did you know why they're commissioning a private museum?" Quinn asked, playing with a lettuce while trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot to tell you. Rachel is back and will be living with them now."

A loud clatter accompanied with a low muttering that sounded suspiciously like cussing was altogether drowned by both Russell and Judy's excited chatter. Quinn ducked under the table to retrieve her salad fork and to hide her mortified expression.

"Oh! I haven't seen that lovely girl for so long!" Judy said, uncharacteristically eager at the news.

"I know! Such sweet girl," Russell replied with a smile. "Quinn, honey? Didn't you used to go at the same kindergarten class?"

Finally emerging from under the table, Quinn sat down and was met with questioning looks probably because of her red face and her death grip at her fork.

"Honey? Are you alright? You look flushed."

"Yeah, mom. I'm fine," she dismissed, relaxing her hand and forcing a smile. "I think so, dad. I don't really remember. It's been years," she replied to Russell, and the man just smiled and agreed that she's too young to remember Rachel. The older Fabrays just continued with their chatter and she just half-listened as usual.

The truth is, she does remember Rachel Berry. She actually remembers everything: the expressive brown eyes, the cute dimples, the small stature, the penny loafers, the animal-themed argyles, the knee socks, the gold star stickers, and the amazing voice.

She also distinctly remembers the obnoxious attitude, the hair pulling, the birth of Lucy Caboosey, the laughter, the embarrassment, more laughter, the tears, the shouting, and the disappearance.

Until now.

She sighed, finishing the glass of orange juice. Looking at her watch, she saw that she's going to be late if she doesn't hurry.

"Mom, Dad, I need to go now." She went to her mom and kissed her cheek and then to her dad to kiss his cheek and playfully punch him when he tried to pat her head again.

"Be careful, Lucy!" older woman shouted at her daughter - who is now lacing up her leather knee-high boots - before turning her attention to her husband's ridiculous comments about his new German clients.

Quinn groaned as she opened the door and jogged towards her parked yellow Volkswagen. She opened the car door, slammed it, and started the engine.

"I hate that name," she grumbled as she put her foot on the accelerator and drove off to McKinley High.

* * *

"Yo! Quinnus Bratticus! Are we up for tomorrow?"

The blonde rolled her eyes and closed her locker before turning her attention to the smirking Latina. She can't help but spare a split-second glance at the Latina's impressive cleavage which the other girl claimed 'grew over summer'.

Quinn doesn't believe it, but she let it go.

"Stop being lame, Santana," the blonde deadpanned as she looked into the other girl's dark eyes. "And is tomorrow confirmed?"

Tossing her hair on one side, the Latina's smile turned smug. "Of course, Blondie. A reliable source confided in me that Coach Sylvester is planning a surprise tryout. Something about 'a tactical move to weed out undesirables from the potentials'."

Quinn nodded, satisfied, before furrowing her eyebrows. "Did Alex confirmed if the Survivor Tryout is real?"

"Shhhh!" the Latina admonished, looking left and right before dragging the blonde away from the bustling hallway and away from the potential eavesdroppers. "Alex don't _know_ that I know, okay?" she began after she pushed the blonde inside an empty classroom.

"Then how did you know about the surprise tryout tomorrow?"

"Well... I kinda read her diary," the Latina sheepishly replied.

"I thought you'll ask her everything she knows?" Quinn asked, perplexed.

The Latina huffed in frustration. "She won't tell me _anything_ at all. She's afraid that if we know too much, Coach Sylvester will hunt her down and ship her off to an island filled with cannibals."

Quinn arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "Island with cannibals? Is that even possible?"

Santana shrugged. "Who knows? You should have seen the diary entries about Coach Sylvester. I'm not even exaggerating when I say that Alex is scared of her, and she's the cheerleading captain. Hell, the whole squad seems terrified of her." Her expression turned thoughtful as she whispered, "she's kind of _crazy_."

Quinn scoffed, "I doubt that the alleged rumors about Coach Sylvester are all true."

"Oh yeah?" Santana challenged with a raised eyebrow before whipping out a glittery notebook. "Let's see..." she began, flipping on the papers in search for something to read out loud.

"Is that Alex' diary?"

The Latina ignored her question in favor of flipping the pages and scanning its contents. "Here we go... '_Coach enforced a rule about not consuming any fattening foods on Christmas break. She said something about having eyes everywhere and that anyone who'll be caught will perform suicides for three hours straight only to stop when she says so or when we die of exhaustion, whichever comes first. Some of the Cheerios didn't take the rule seriously, some insisted that it's Christmas while some insisted that eating a lot of food is a family tradition. I, for one, will take this rule seriously no matter what._'"

"Yeah, she really did not eat that much no matter how much Mami forced her to," the Latina supplied.

Curious, Quinn peered at the notebook beside the Latina. "What happened after the Christmas break?" Quinn inquired, eager to know what happened.

Santana flipped a couple of pages before stopping at one. "This is after the practice... '_Half of the squad were exhausted and dead to their feet. Three girls were unconscious and two were sent to the clinic. It's terrible, and coach was shouting at how pathetic we all are. Only a few were spared from the tragedy, including me. Thank god..._'"

"Wow..."

"Yeah, wow. I told you she was crazy."

Quinn just arched an eyebrow at her friend. "You should return that to Alex and never steal it again."

"What? No!" the Latina protested, looking at the blonde like she lost her mind. She closed the glittery notebook and haphazardly chucked it inside her bag. "We need this, Q-tip! We have to be prepared!"

The blonde just chuckled, to the Latina's confusion, and said, "we don't need any cheat sheets, Santana. We're top bitches. After tomorrow, coach will be so impressed that she'll _beg_ us after she sees what we can do."

Santana's confusion morphed into a grin. "I knew there was a reason that I put up with your shit, Blondie."

She only replied with her trademark raised eyebrow and a smirk as she dragged the girl outside and into their first period after the bell sounded.

* * *

"Hello everyone! I'm Brittany S. Pierce and I'm your new Sophomore Class President!"

A chorus of cheers and encouragement met the girl's statement as she stands proudly on top of a cafeteria table. The whole place is buzzed with excitement as the blonde continued with her speech.

"I promise a bunch of fun school-wide activities for the students," she sweeps her hand at the cheering crowd, "the teachers," she pointed to a middle-aged physics teacher who just chuckled, "and the awesome school staff like our lunch lady!" she pointed and winked at the lunch lady who cheered and clapped loudly.

"You're all amazing and beautiful, and it is awesome that you vote me as your class president. Thank you all!" she blew a kiss towards the roaring crowd. A geeky-looking guy even pushed a hulking jock in haste to catch the blown kiss.

The cafeteria is in chaos, but in a good way. Everyone is excited that the resident genius and the world's nicest girl is now the class president for the sophomore year level. Even the faculty is not interfering and some are even cheering along.

Well, _except_ for one.

"Who the hell does she think she is, jumping on top of that damn table and acting like she owns the damn place?" Santana huffed, munching on a celery stick.

Quinn just rolled her eyes, used to her friend's annoyance towards the blue-eyed girl. She never really understood where her friend is coming from. Granted, they never really knew the girl personally, but that's a non-issue seeing that everyone knew who Brittany S. Pierce is.

With a Nobel Prize awardee as a father in regards to a breakthrough in genetic engineering and a mother who works at NASA as an applied physicist, it is expected that Brittany will become academically excellent.

It turns out, she surpassed that expectation. With an IQ higher than Einstein (some say 170 and others insist that it's 200), she was a certified genius.

What's unexpected is her personality. Brittany grew up with a bubbly personality and is a social butterfly at heart. So when several offers came in regards to her education, she opt to continue school at a regular phase so as to not miss any important milestones in life. It is shocking, especially to her parents who wished that she pursuit advanced knowledge at a young age.

After a lot of compromises, the Pierces finally relented on the condition that Brittany will take advance classes. It is not a compromise per se, but a _necessity_ for Brittany since she tends to get bored in class when not mentally challenged.

Although she was supposed to be assigned in her appropriate year, she was given the leeway to participate in any classes from freshman to senior year. It actually works in the faculty's favor, seeing that Brittany gives input and can coaxed the whole class into participation.

But that's not all, though.

Surprisingly, the bubbly girl exhibited an advance proficiency in gymnastics and any form of dancing. Which is why Coach Sylvester continues to woo the girl into joining the Cheerios.

For reasons known only to herself, Brittany continues to reject the coach's offer.

"McKinley High rules!" Brittany exclaimed dramatically with a fist-pump and the crowd roared in agreement. The bubbly girl waved her final wave before gracefully jumping off the table. In Quinn's periphery, she saw her friend roll her eyes and huff before a tanned hand reached out for a carrot stick to munch on.

"Ladies..." a voiced drawled after a few minutes of quiet, and Quinn rolled her eyes before glancing up into Puck's smirking face.

"Hey there, sleaze-face," Quinn deadpanned, the girl on her side only grunting in reply as she continues to munch on her vegetable.

"It's too early for compliments, but I'll take it," the boy quipped as his smirk grew. He then winked before bending down and kissing Santana's cheek. "Hey babe."

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"Nothing," the Latina grumbled, and the boy raised an eyebrow before glancing at the blonde who just shrugged and pointed at the cafeteria door.

"Ahh," the boy said, nodding in understanding when he saw another blonde busy chatting away with a group of people near the door. "Baby, as much as it _excites_ me to imagine a cat fight between the two of you," both girls scowled at him, "I'm pretty sure that Brittany never did anything bad to you."

"Well, if you like _her_ that much, why don't you go be her _boyfriend_ then?" the Latina suddenly spat before standing up with the intention of storming out.

"Baby!"

"Don't touch me!" the Latina hissed as she violently shrugged off Puck's hand on her wrist. With heels loudly clicking on the tiled floor, she barked at the students in her way who practically jumped at the sight of the fuming girl. Though when she passed by the the bubbly blonde, she didn't even spare a glance.

Quinn observed how the bright blue eyes gave a cursory glance at the passing Latina before her own hazel eyes settled on the boy opposite of her who is now scratching his mohawk in confusion.

"Trouble in paradise?" the blonde quipped, smirking when the boy sighed and glowered at her.

"I don't understand. Why is she so mad at Brittany?"

The blonde shrugged. "It's Santana. She doesn't need any logic to hate on someone."

The boy just hummed in reply, seemingly in thought, before a large looming shadow fell on their table.

"Hi guys!" Finn greeted as he plopped down at the chair beside Puck.

"Hey Finn," the blonde greeted before rolling her eyes when the boys bumped fists.

"What's up with Santana? I saw her scaring some first years down the hallway," the tall boy commented as he rummaged through his bag. He then took an assortment of Tupperware and opened the large one which contained a two humongous roast beef sandwich.

"Sweet!" Puck gleefully exclaimed, taking out the other sandwich without any preamble. Puck developed a habit of stealing half of Finn's packed lunch, so the tall boy made sure that he packed extra food.

"You know, the usual Brittany rage," Quinn answered seeing as the other boy is now fully concentrated on devouring his sandwich. "Thanks," she said when Finn, the sweet boy that he is, gave her the usual assortment of fruit slices that he always packs for her.

"Huh. What did Brittany do to her, again?"

"Nothing," Quinn and Puck said at the same time.

"Weird," Finn commented, taking a huge bite off of his sandwich. The two nodded in agreement as they finished off their lunch provided by Finn's mother.

* * *

"Quinn 'Goldilocks' Fabray and Santana 'Fake-Boobs' Lopez, proceed to my office immediately after your mediocre teacher finishes with his subpar lesson for today," a voice was heard via the school's intercom speakers, and Quinn saw their teacher's left eye twitch.

"Ms. Fabray and Ms. Lopez, you can go since it's only five minutes before dismissal," the teacher calmly said, although both girls saw his obviously annoyed expression.

"C'mon, Blondie," Santana hissed as she grabbed the blonde's wrist. They went out of the room and started walking towards the hallway.

"What do you think this is about?" Quinn whispered as both of their heels clank loudly with their every step.

The Latina shrugged. "Dunno? It could be anything." Then dark eyes suddenly widened as tanned arms whipped out to grabbed onto the blonde's forearm.

"Ow! Santana!" Quinn hissed as the Latina halted her steps.

"What if she found out that I stole Alex's diary?"

"What are you blabbering about?"

"The _diary_!"

"I _know_ about the diary," the blonde growled, her frustration mounting. "What I mean is why are you being ridiculous by assuming that that's what this is about?"

"Because it makes sense!"

"No, it _doesn't_," the blonde disagreed, prying Santana's vice-like grip on her forearm. "Don't be a paranoid wussy, Santana."

"I'm _not_ a wussy, you Barbie doll."

"Then _stop_ being one, you Penelope Cruz wannabe."

"Goldilocks."

"Fake boobs."

"They're real!"

"And no one believes you!"

"Ladies," a voice piped in, and both girls whipped their heads at the direction of the voice to find a small blonde girl in a Cheerios uniform.

"Coach is waiting for you at the office and she hates unnecessary waiting, so save the insults for later," Becky stated before turning around, her clipboard dangling from her right hand.

The two glared at each other for a second or two before following Becky, their combined footsteps echoing on the empty hallway.

"Inside," the small girl commanded tersely as they stopped at a door that said 'Sylvester's Dungeon'. Quinn had a fleeting thought of how the principal agreed on the office title before they were nudged again by Becky.

"Sit," Coach Sylvester said as soon as the two were practically pushed inside by the impatient blonde girl. "Are you two planning on trying out for the squad?" the coach asked without looking up from the papers that she's poring over.

Both girls looked at each other - Quinn's eyes are curious while Santana's are nervous - before replying, "yes, Coach."

The older blonde hummed while shuffling the papers in her desk. As soon as she finished neatly stacking it on one corner, she finally looked up and silently scrutinized the two girls.

"I have eyes _everywhere_. And these gorgeous eyes has been seeing the two of you in P.E., and I gotta say that I'm particularly impressed."

The two girls can't help but smile at the compliment.

"You know," she added. "I pride myself for being a _champion_. And being a champion means constant winning despite any odds."

The two girls nodded in agreement as the older woman leaned back comfortably on her chair.

"Winning is a lot of work even for me, despite the popular opinion that I'm a natural-born winner. Though it is accurate in _every_ sense, that doesn't mean that I'll let my guard down just because I always win."

"What I'm trying to say, Goldilocks and Fake-Boobs, is that I'm not looking for _mere_ dancers and gymnast. No, what I'm looking for are people with thirst to win at all cost, viciousness to eliminate potential dangers, and the desire to rise on top. These are what constitutes a real winner, and that's what I'm looking for in my next Cheerios."

"So my question is: do _you_ have what it takes to be champions?" the coach asked as she slightly leaned forward, her sharp eyes darting from one girl to the other.

The blonde and the brunette glanced at each other again, unspoken words passing between them as they both mull over the coach's words. They knew what the other one is thinking: how the older blonde's words, despite being reasonable enough, sounds ominous. It's as if they are being presented with the devil's contract for success with their own souls as the very payment.

But they both knew what must be done, seeing as they're both dreaming of becoming a Cheerio ever since they decided to attend McKinley High last year. They both trained hard for a year just to have a chance at being one of Coach Sylvester's elites, and they know that they'll never pass the chance if it comes their way.

And it is now coming their way.

"Yes, Coach," they both answered, and the older blonde nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent. The first tryouts is just a formality because once you're allowed to tryout, you're already a shoo-in for the second tryout."

"However," the older blonde added, "to qualify for the first tryouts, certain _requirements_ must be met first."

"What is it, Coach?" Santana bravely asked.

A Cheshire-like grin surfaced from the older woman's face as she propped her chin on her knuckles. "Ladies, how much do you know about the Glee Club?"

* * *

"Lucy Liu! Think fast!"

Tina Cohen-Chang is not prepared for the cold assault as a red slushie was flung on her face. Mortified, she tried to wipe the artificially-flavored ice to see who threw it, but failed when she felt a sting on her eyes when she tried to open them.

She heard laughter, and her face burned in embarrassment (which is ironically already covered in red). Literally blind, she tried to rummage through her backpack for a face towel that she thankfully brought when she felt someone tug at her hand gently.

Though wary, she followed said person knowing that she wouldn't be able to function without her eyesight. A few steps later and she smelled the distinctive scent of strong disinfectant and heard echoey footsteps coupled with girly chatters. She surmised that they're probably at the bathroom, especially when the person guiding her directed her hand somewhere and she felt the flow of running water.

Grateful, she immediately scooped up a handful of water to wash the slushie away. She heard movements on her right as she busied herself, and saw a hand offering a handful of paper towels as soon as the red ice is gone.

"Thanks, Brittany," the girl breathed in relief as soon as she saw who helped her. She accepted the offered paper towels and dried her face while the other girl regarded her with concern.

"How's your eyes?" the blonde girl immediately asked, scrutinizing the girl's dark eyes for any signs of redness.

"Better," the Asian girl replied, still busy with wiping her face. She then glanced at the mirror in front to check for any damages to her hair and was a bit grateful that it was spared from the tragedy.

Re-washing hair in school bathrooms is not her _favorite_ thing.

"You can borrow this," the blonde from her right said, handing over a purple top. "I don't know if you have extra clothes, but I hope this is okay."

"Thanks," Tina smiled at the resident genius. "Why do you have extra clothes with you?" she can't help but ask as soon as she saw that the top is expensive-looking.

The blonde giggled, waving her hand dismissively. "I always bring two extra sets with me when I'm doing some experiments in the science lab. You know, _just in case_."

The Asian girl chuckled good-heartedly when she saw a pinkish tinge on the still giggling blonde's cheeks, remembering the incident last month that involves a mini-explosion of bubbly, bluish substance that flooded the entire chemistry lab.

"Thanks," she said before walking towards an empty stall. She then took off her sticky top before realizing that she needed to at least wipe her torso to get rid of some of the slushie that seeped into her clothes.

_Stupid!_ she cursed herself. She was about to ask Brittany for some paper towels when she heard a knock.

"Tina? You forgot to bring paper towels," the voice said, and a hand emerged with a set of wet paper towels as soon as Tina slightly opened the door.

She mumbled her thanks before proceeding with cleaning up herself, thanking the heavens that someone as kind-hearted as Brittany offered her help. After donning the t-shirt, she got out of the stall and went to scrutinize herself in the mirror.

"Thanks again, Brittany. You saved me today."

"You're welcome, Tina," the blonde smiled widely, though it morphed into a slight frown a few seconds later. "Though I shouldn't really be saving you from slushies because it _shouldn't_ be happening in the first place."

The Asian girl sighed. "Well, it's because of the tryouts tomorrow."

"Tryouts?" Brittany asked, tilting her head in question.

"Yeah. It's an unwritten tradition that potential candidates for Cheerios will prank on the 'useless' clubs that are getting in the way of the Cheerios' budget. Last year was the marching band, and _this_ year is the glee club.

The blonde frowned. "So that's why there are a lot of bullying here?"

"In a sense. Sometimes, people are just jerks."

The blonde hummed, looking pensive while Tina started rummaging her bag for some make-up. She knows she's late anyway, so a couple of minutes more won't really hurt.

"Don't you have a class?" the Asian girl suddenly remembered, looking at the blonde girl who is humming 'twinkle twinkle, little star'.

"Hmmm? Oh, I finished all my exams last week on my Spanish. I'm supposed to help Mr. Schuester on the lesson later before I start French tomorrow. But there's no rush, so I'm gonna wait for you," the blonde girl chirped with a smile before humming again.

"Wait, are you saying you _finished_ your Spanish for this semester?"

"Nope, I meant the whole Spanish curriculum for the whole four years. I'll try to finish my French until the next semester so I could finally start on Asian languages next year. It's so exciting!" the blonde girl squealed in delight.

"Oh," Tina just said with a chuckle, absorbing the information as she readied her foundation. She never really knew the capacity of the blonde's intelligence, but it always amazes her how McKinley is housing a person like Brittany.

"I hope I could stick to French and Asian languages, though. Sometimes, I get bored easily when it comes to languages."

"I'm sure you'll do great. I mean, you're done with Spanish already," the Asian encouraged as she applied some dark shadows on her eyes. In her periphery though, Tina saw a blush creeping on the girl's face and she wonder what she said to merit such reaction.

"Well, Spanish is a _beautiful_ language," the blonde softly said, and Tina chose not to comment at Brittany's far-away look.

"It is."

The far-away look was then replaced with a wide smile. "But I really want to dance," the blonde shared.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" The blonde then gracefully pirouetted on the tiled floor to the Asian girl's amusement.

"So why don't you?"

"I would have, but there's no gymnastic club here. The dancers are mostly Cheerios and they're all _mean_ people," Brittany finished with a pout as she pirouette more.

Tina nodded, agreeing with the blonde. The gymnastic club is actually disbanded, mostly because the members all decided that being a Cheerio warrants more perks and college opportunities.

As the Asian girl applied the final touches in her make-up, a suddenly thought popped into her head that could potentially become a win-win situation for the both of them.

"Brittany," she started with a grin, "how would you like to be a part of Glee Club?"

* * *

"Are you _sure_ that this will work?"

"Yes, for the hundredth _thousand_ times, I'm sure. I did this before in summer camp."

"I was there, Santana, and I'm pretty sure that it's a _disaster_."

"Why, thank you. It was indeed a disaster for them."

"I meant your prank sucks."

"Just shut up, Blondie, and admire a master in action," the Latina hissed as she finished tying the nylon string on the nail that she hammered earlier. She moved it a bit and watched how the movement transferred to the large bucket hanging above.

"Isn't it a bit obvious, though? I mean, the bucket is right _there_," the blonde whispered, pointing at the glaringly obvious bucket outside the Glee room's closed door. "Isn't the idea of a prank is that the person being pranked on is _not_ suppose to see it coming?"

"Shhh, just watch and learn," the brunette whispered back, tugging the blonde's wrist to hide at a corner when they saw a couple of Glee kids coming.

"...and then I told him that the scarf he's wearing is so last season."

"Is it? I think it suits him."

"Yes it does, but it's still last season. So, I gave him some pointers."

"You two are really getting along now, aren't you?"

The fair-skinned boy sighed, flinging his own stylish scarf to his left. "It's a _long_ time coming, but we're getting there. Finn is a nice boy, though a little dim at times, and he is my step-brother."

"I didn't know _Porcelain_ is part of the Glee Club," Santana whispered as they saw Kurt, a heavyset African-American girl, and a bespectacled boy in a wheelchair getting closer to the trap.

"I didn't know, either," Quinn whispered back, her eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"Should we abort the mission?"

The blonde was pensive for a few seconds. "No," she said.

"But-"

"Do you remember what coach said?" the blonde hissed. "She has eyes _everywhere_. What do you think will happen if we chickened out _now_? She'll know, and we'll _never_ get to be a Cheerio."

"...okay," the Latina agreed, and both fixed their eyes at the three as they come closer and closer to the door.

"What the hell..." the African-American girl gasped as the three stopped their tracks to stare at the big bucket hanging at the door.

"Is that slushie?" the bespectacled boy asked, peering upward beneath his glasses.

Kurt chuckled. "Oh boy, are those jocks and cheerleaders getting sloppy?" He came closer to the door and wiggled the nylon string. The three saw the bucket moved, red ice dripping slightly.

"Yeah. Isn't the bucket supposed to be on the other side of the door?" the girl asked, her chuckling turning into laughter.

"See?" the hidden blonde whispered harshly, and the Latina just shushed her.

"They're not exactly the brightest of the bunch," the bespectacled boy quipped, and it earned another few rounds of laughter.

"Oh my gosh, this is the best prank _ever_," Kurt said, wiping his eyes. "C'mon guys, let's just walk around this thing." He then walked confidently at the door with the two on tow, carefully bypassing the nylons string, and opened the door with a push.

"Yes!" the Latina whispered triumphantly, and the blonde gave her a patented arching of one eyebrow before refocusing on the three.

A few seconds later, she figured out Santana's glee.

As soon as Kurt opened the door with a push, an intricate string mechanism were jolted awake, sending another slushie bucket on their face. The three gasped, surprised and momentarily blinded by the unexpected slushie.

And that momentary blindness is enough for another set of string mechanism to enact without any obstacle from anyone. As soon as the bucket was flung, the movement triggered a set of nylon strings that reaches toward the open window and into the outside.

The blinded trio heard gravels crunching and some sound of heavy machinery, but they paid no mind as they're all busy looking for anything to wipe their stinging eyes with.

"What is going on he- is that a _cement truck_?!" A voice was suddenly heard, and the trio - with their eyes now washed by the bottled water Kurt always carry - looked at the door to find a stunned Mr. Schuester staring at the window with his mouth wide open.

The three whipped their heads to the window and saw a cement truck backing towards the window. The nozzle-like thing came closer and closer to the open window, and then the truck stopped. Then the nozzle-like thing started slightly vibrating before it produced...

..._red slushie_.

The four is in shock, incapable of movement as they stared aghast at the large nozzle that's trickling an equally large amount of slushie. And only when the cold beverage reached their feet that their limbs started functioning.

"Try to block it! I'll go outside to talk to the driver," Mr. Schue commanded, running outside and almost slipping at the red slushie on the floor. The teacher is so focused on getting to the truck that he never noticed two laughing girls that he bypassed on the hallway.

"Cement truck?" the blonde giggled. "And how did you even get that large amount of slushie?"

"Puck knows a guy," the Latina shrugged, giggling at the sight of the Kurt and the girl trying in vain to block the nozzle while the bespectacled boy just held onto something so he won't slip away.

"And the bucket outside?"

"_Elementary_, my dear Blondie," the Latina replied. "They are aware of the rampant pranking today, so it's just a ploy to get them to lower their guard down. It is supposed to be so obvious and so stupid that they won't even bother to correct it before opening the door. Though if only they _removed_ it first before going inside, then they won't be having a problem now."

"Oh Santana, you're such an evil genius."

"I try," the Latina said smugly. "Now c'mon, we shouldn't be seen here."

The two girls walked inconspicuously towards the exit as the final bell sounded. The two blended in with the teenagers coming out of the classrooms, both were satisfied with the job well done.

* * *

"They're a bunch of barbaric animals! Look at what they did to my shirt! This is _Marc Jacobs_!"

"Kurt, calm down."

"_Calm down_? They've been torturing us for a whole semester now, Mr. Schue. This has got to stop before any of my clothes suffer."

"You gotta admit," Tina piped in, internally thankful that she wasn't on time for the Glee meeting, "as much as this is an evil act, this is a really smart one."

"Yeah, I looked into it and saw how everything is interconnected via nylon strings. Even the bucket outside served as a trigger. It's really fascinating," the bespectacled boy added from the spot where he's still admiring the nylon handiwork.

"Hold up, are you saying that Coach is recruiting _smart_ people now?"

"Not every jock and cheerleaders are stupid, Mercedes. They are just collectively mean," Tina explained.

"Well, stupid or not, they _have_ to be stopped," Mercedes insisted. "Mr. Schue, can't you do _something_ about this?"

"I have," the teacher said, running his hand on his curly hair in frustration. "No matter how much I try and tell on Coach Sylvester, nothing happens. All the pranking are considered as individual crimes of bullying and nothing more. There is not _enough_ evidence to pinpoint it all on Coach Sylvester."

"No one is going to tell on Coach. She's too influential and scary."

"Thank you, Artie, for being such an _optimist_ to our dilemma," Kurt sarcastically said and Mr. Schue gave the pale boy a reprimanding look.

"I'm just sayin'," Artie reasoned, still busy checking out the nylons strings.

"Will you quit with those strings already?" Mercedes exasperatedly commented as the bespectacled boy continued with his observation.

"I can't help it!" the boy exclaimed, finally stopping his curious hands from exploring. "This is really ingenious and I can see a lot of applied physics that are put into this."

"A physicist for a cheerleader? _Pffft_," Mercedes snorted, before her eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait! Don't you think it's _Brittany_?"

"Don't be absurd, Mercedes. Brittany is too nice for that."

"How would _you_ know, Tina? None of us really knew her personally, and it's a common knowledge how Coach Sylvester is trying to get her to join the Cheerios."

"Because she helped me earlier when someone threw a slushie at me," the Asian girl explained. Mercedes paused and nodded before Tina adds, "and she will be joining Glee Club starting next week."

"That's amazing!" Mr. Schue exclaimed as the New Direction broke into chatters. "At least there's a good news that came out today. New Directions, we have to be welcoming next Wednesday to our newest member."

The teenagers nodded.

"And, we'll have to cut this meeting short because the maintenance will arrive soon to start cleaning the room." All of them looked at the ground and saw the sticky mess that's still covering the floor.

* * *

"Have you finished that English thing that we need to pass tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Can I borrow it?"

"No Santana, you can't."

"Urghhh, you're _so_ selfish," the Latina whined, sipping at her caramel frappe.

"If I saw any drips from your drink on my car, I'm gonna whoop your ass," Quinn threatened, her eyes firmly on the road as she did a left turn.

"I'll clean it up, your _highness_," the Latina mocked, sipping loudly to rile the blonde. The blonde just ignored her as she did a right turn on an intersection.

"How about we exchange?"

"What?" the blonde asked, her eyes still on the road.

"Give me your English and I'll give you my Physics."

Quinn paused. Any homework of the Latina that involves any kind of calculation is a sure A plus material.

"Throw in your Chemistry and you've got yourself a deal."

"That's two for one! You're unfair, Blondie."

"My English is long, and it's not like it took you that long to finish your Chemistry and Physics."

Santana paused and mulled it over as Quinn slowed down and parked the car. She turned the keys to the ignition and killed the engine before opening the car door.

"Okay Blondie, you've got yourself a deal," Santana acquiesced as she got out the car, throwing her empty cup in a trash bin nearby. Quinn followed suit, and she rolled her eyes when she saw the Latina already walking towards the front door.

"Hurry up," the Latina called, impatiently tapping her foot as the blonde walked up to the door.

"It is my house, you know," the blonde admonished, walking closer to the front door. She held onto the door knob as she fished for the right key in her hand. But then her hand on the door knob unconsciously moved, and it halted her.

"It's open," she observed with a frown, turning the door knob to double check.

The girl beside her shrugged. "Maybe your folks are home?"

"Maybe..." Quinn trailed off, still puzzled. She knows that her father will be coming home late because of some contracts that he needs to finalize, while her mother is never home before nine.

"C'mon Blondie, I'm hungry," Santana whined, slapping the blonde's hand from the door knob - to the blonde's annoyance - and opening the door herself.

"Whoah, another Barbie," the Latina exclaimed, her eyes widening in slight surprise. Quinn, meanwhile, has her eyes narrowing slightly at the stranger sitting on the sofa sipping from a tall glass of iced tea.

"Who are you?"

"Hi! You're home," the stranger said, gently putting down the glass on the coffee table nearby and gracefully standing up.

"Yes, and you're not answering my question," the blonde retorted, her arms crossing at her chest. She's not fond of strangers in her home, especially those who have suspiciously bright smile wearing a flowery dress.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just excited that I finally get to meet you," the stranger said, still smiling as she came closer with an outstretched hand.

"My name is Charlotte Quinn Fabray, and I'm your half-sister."

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 2

**Title:** A Cinderella Nightmare

* * *

**A/N: **I was inspired to finish this thing, so here ya go. Go review if you have any questions, suggestions, or even violent reactions.

Enjoy. Review if you must.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **Welcome Home, Cinderella

"So... is it true?"

"Is what true, Finnept?"

The tall boy looked to his left and then his right before leaning closer to the Latina who is currently busy doing her Spanish homework. "You know... Quinn's secret _sister_?"

The Latina didn't even spare a glance at the abnormally tall person in front of her as her pen furiously glides on the paper. Ever since she started school, she had a pledge to herself that she'll never do any Spanish homework at home because she has better things to do with her life. Besides, Spanish is like Physics to her.

It's _too_ easy.

"Santana," the boy whispered again, and Santana rolled her eyes in annoyance before looking up at the eager boy.

"Where did you even get that information?" Santana asked before her eyes refocused on her homework.

_Let's see_, she thought, _'Pero silencio. La gentil Ofelia! Ah ninfa! En tus plegarias...'_

"Puck told me earlier. He said something about Quinn finding herself a sister that looks just like her. But I know she doesn't have one, so at first I thought he's being, like, _deep_. Like when you're finding yourself?"

"But then he said that she really do have one that _talks_. Then I figured that maybe it's that old joke about Quinn being bipolar. But he also said that you saw the sister and I figured that maybe he's talking about a _real_ person."

"So... does she _really_ have a sister?"

Santana just half-listened, still furiously writing at her paper. A couple more minutes went by and she's finally done. Satisfied that she finished on time, she looked up again and rolled her eyes at the tall boy's puppy face.

"Finnept," she started as she smoothed out her homework and re-read what she wrote. "How many times do I need to explain that you and I don't _gossip_? This acquaintanceship between us doesn't work that way."

"But I'm curious..."

"Why don't you ask Quinn, then? I thought the two of you are _great_ friends?" Santana mocked, squinting her eyes at a particular word that seems indiscernible.

"Well, you know how she can be. Sure, you still scare me most of the times," Santana rolled her eyes at that, "but at least you're _predictable_. And Quinn can be a bit-"

"Can be a bit what, Hudson?" a voice interrupted, and Santana smirked when she saw how Finn's slightly beady eyes widened in both surprise and terror at the slightly husky voice.

"Q-Quinn! Hi!" the tall boy greeted cheerfully as soon as he looked up, though his voice - a bit higher than normal - betrayed his surprise.

"A bit what, _Hudson_?" Quinn repeated, her hands crossing at her chest and her eyebrow set in their trademark position.

"N-Nothing!" the tall boy squeaked, then Santana saw the cold sweat that's surfacing from his forehead and she chuckled lightly in amusement. "Oh! Look at the time! I got a t-thing to review for that s-something class, bye!" The boy then scrambled, his large body almost toppling in haste, and practically ran away from the library table that Santana is occupying.

"Is he asking about yesterday?" Quinn inquired with a frown as she sat down opposite of the Latina.

"Yep," Santana confirmed as she continues to read on. "He's channeling his step-brother for being a gossip queen."

"Why is he asking you, then? I didn't know you were _that_ close."

"Well, I'm apparently _less_ scary compared to you," the Latina quipped, taking out her Spanish notebook and putting the homework in between two empty leaf.

"What's that notebook for?"

"Spanish."

"Then why is _nothing_ written on it?" the blonde questioned as she picked up said notebook and leafed through the empty pages.

"It's _Spanish_, Blondie," Santana reiterated slowly, as if she can't believe that she's explaining something so obvious to the other girl.

Quinn just rolled her eyes before nodding, then handed back the notebook to the girl. "She's going to move in with us," she shared in a monotonous voice after some silence.

The Latina arched an eyebrow at that. "And you're... okay with that?"

"Do you think I have a _choice_?" the blonde spat, her calm demeanor now being taken over by her bitchy side. "Mom said so, and she insinuated _heavily_ that I need to rein in any of my animosity for Dad's sake."

Santana observed the transformation, all the while thinking about all the _good_ bipolar jokes that she has on her arsenal of epic jokes. But she thought against it, knowing how Quinn's family is important to the blonde. "So, she really is moving in? It's already final?"

The blonde sighed. "Yeah," she breathed as she thought back on the moment when her family's life changed forever.

**[Flashback]**

"Is this some kind of a _joke_?" Quinn questioned with a dark chuckle, not accepting the proffered hand. She saw the stranger's face expressing hurt before it morphed into confusion.

"You don't know?" the girl asked before gasping, "I'm so sorry! I thought you knew..." she added, trailing off as she put her palm at her open mouth in slight shock and regret.

"Miss... If you're a relative of mine, then fine. But could you please stop with this joke? It's _not_ funny," the blonde hissed as she step closer, glaring daggers at the horribly familiar pair of light blue eyes in front of her.

Behind Quinn, the Latina is rooted on the spot, not knowing what to do. In her mind, if it really is a family thing, then she has no business butting in.

"I'm sorry that you found out this way, but I'm not joking," the stranger carefully explained, stepping closer and not stepping back as what Quinn is used to when she's confronting someone. "I really am your sister Luc-"

"Don't you _dare_ say that name!" Quinn shouted, and the stranger jumped in fright while Santana also jumped in surprise at the sheer volume. "My name is Quinn, the one that you _also_ have on your name which you're not suppose to have because I have _no_ sister!"

"I'm sorry," the stranger whispered, her expression softening at Quinn's obvious distress.

"No, don't apologize to me, _stranger_. Just take back what you said."

"But-"

"Lucy," a stern voice was heard, and all heads turned to look at Judy Fabray standing at the front door, her lab coat draped in one forearm. "Calm yourself and go meet me at your Dad's office."

"But this girl-"

"_Now_," Judy insisted, her voice carrying the usual commanding presence. She stepped inside, draping the lab coat in a side table, then walked towards the commotion.

"Charlotte," she said, addressing the stranger who turned her head to look at the older blonde's stoic face. "Wait here while I talk to my daughter. Santana there," she then gestured at the Latina, "will keep you company. _Right_, Santana?"

"Of course, Judy," Santana agreed, nodding politely.

"Good," the older blonde nodded. "Come, Lucy. You know how I hate waiting."

Quinn glowered at the stranger before following her mother's footsteps.

"Mom, who is that?" Quinn asked as soon as the door behind her closed. She saw her mother go to one of the wooden cabinets that house Russell's scotch that he rarely drinks. The older Fabray opened the cabinet, took out a bottle, and placed it on the wooden desk. She then fetch a clear glass from another cabinet and poured a generous amount of scotch before tipping the glass into her mouth.

Quinn observed every movement, her dread mounting. Her parents _rarely_ drinks now, though her mom occasionally does when she's stressed from hospital work or when something is personally bothering her.

The younger blonde hopes it's something about a really difficult _patient_.

"Lucy... she _is_ your sister," the older Fabray said.

Or not.

"What? H-How can that be? We're the same age!" Quinn sputtered, her eyes widening.

"_Half_ sister, Lucy," Judy clarified, pouring scotch at her glass again.

"Who's half?"

The older blonde sighed. "Your father's," she said, now sipping at the scotch as her daughter paced at the floor.

"Did dad _cheat_?" Quinn whispered, her eyes starting to tear up. Russell Fabray is her hero growing up, and she'll be _devastated_ if she found out that her hero did something horrible to her mother.

"No, he didn't."

"But how..."

The older blonde sighed. "Sit down, Lucy," she softly said, gesturing at the chair in front of the office desk.

"Do you remember how you were born?" the older blonde blonde started as soon as Quinn is seated comfortably, though Judy opt to stand up with scotch in one hand.

Quinn curl her lips in disgust. "If this involves the birds and the bees or the stork delivery, then I think we're a little late for the _sex talk_."

Judy chuckled. "No, Lucy. We're done with that."

"I know," the blonde deadpanned, internally cringing at the memory of her horrified thirteen-year old self as Judy explained puberty in all its gory details.

_The perks of having a mother as a doctor_, she sarcastically thought as she refocused on her mother and her story.

"When you were conceived, both Russell and I just got out of high school. I told you how our parents were horrified and how my parents kicked me out and threatened that they'll never pay for college unless I 'fix' it."

"If not for Russell's parents, I would've done it," Judy chuckled darkly, and Quinn just nodded, already familiar with the story. She's not harboring any resentment towards her mother for thinking that because she understood how confusing it could be.

Her dad helped her to understand Judy's side.

"So, they interfered and talked some sense to my parents, and they eventually promised that they'll support my education. But it was never the same between us, not until you were born, of course."

Quinn smiled at that. Her grandparents on her mother may not be the most affectionate people, but they did dotted on their only granddaughter.

"You know the story, of course. How we both struggled with college and how both of our parents helped in taking care of you."

"_But_," Judy paused as she drank again, "we never told you about Russell's ex-girlfriend."

Quinn visibly perked at the new information.

"In the middle of high school senior year, Russell and I broke up over something petty. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was something else, I don't exactly remember. None of us do, because it's _that_ forgettable."

"You know the stories about Russell's teenage years, how he always get into fights and how he got this habit of drinking away his problems. If not for Leroy as his anchor, your dad would've been kicked out in high school for constant bad behavior."

"But when we broke up, Leroy _wasn't_ with him. So a week later, he went to some bar alone with the use of his fake ID and got into trouble with some guys there. He told me that he fought _four_ men all by himself, although I think he was just exaggerating," Judy chuckled, her eyes reminiscent.

"On his way home, he told me that he bumped into Cassandra, his ex-girlfriend. Now this girl, I've met her in the past and I have nothing bad to say about her. She's a kind and lovely girl, and Russell would have _never_ left her if it weren't for me."

Judy chuckled again, sipping on her scotch as Quinn listened raptly. "I'm actually the reason why they broke up. They've been together for two years when Russell and I met, and he claims he was smitten when he saw _me_ for the first time."

"But that night, he was heartbroken. So, he accepted Cassandra's offer to clean up his wounds at her home."

"And that night, Lucy, is the reason you have a half-sister waiting outside," the older blonde finished, emptying her scotch in one gulp.

"Wow..." Quinn trailed off, her brain absorbing all the information. It feels surreal, as if she's living a dream where she's in her underwear and a twin suddenly appeared to laugh at her.

It's a weird dream, but it's an even _weirder_ reality.

"So... why is she here after _all_ this time?" Quinn asked, her mind reeling and her head felt like it's coming down with a migraine.

The older blonde paused. "That's another story that only your father can tell. You'll have to wait for him."

"No... I-I think I'm going to stay at Santana's today, if that's okay with you."

The older blonde hummed in agreement. "If that's what you want. I'll explain it to your father later."

A pregnant pause. "Is she _just_ visiting?"

Another pregnant pause. "She's got nowhere else to go, Lucy."

**[End of Flashback]**

"I gotta say, though," the blonde heard the Latina say as she was snapped back to the present time, "your sister is _really_ nice."

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"No, I meant she's _too_ nice that it's actually kinda _scary_."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, her interest piqued. She never saw her sister again since yesterday, and only Santana managed to converse with her for more than a few minutes.

"I dunno. It's like nothing could _faze_ her. Like, your mom appointed me as her temporary babysitter, right?" the blonde nodded. "Well, I sorta tried to coaxed some information from her, like if she's lying or not, blah blah blah, the usual threats," she shared, waving her hand dismissively.

"But she just sat there with a freakin' smile and explained her story, blah blah blah. It's so... _unnerving_. I never met a person that responds to my threat with a freakin' smile and a sunny disposition," the Latina wondered out loud, shivering dramatically at the memory.

Quinn rolled her eyes at the other girl's antics. "Well, my mom mentioned that the girl's mother is practically a _saint_, so I'm not surprised."

"Well, I am," Santana retorted. "I almost wanted to deliberately misbehave in front of her just to see if I could get a reaction out her that isn't so _positive_."

The blonde just hummed distractedly, her mind re-evaluating the recent events. She'll be home later, and she and her dad will surely have to talk seeing that there'll be major changes in their life because of his _other_ daughter.

_Urghhh_, she internally groaned, already hating the idea of some _unknown_ sibling in her domain. She grew up as an only child, and was therefore spoiled enough that she won't want anyone _sharing_ the spotlight.

"What are you gonna do, though? Is Quinnus Bratticus gonna _share_ her only-child-spotlight?" the Latina quipped, and the blonde almost laughed out loud when the other girl parroted her inner dilemma.

"Of course not, Santana. I'm the _only_ child in the Fabray household, and it's gonna _stay_ that way," Quinn declared with a cruel smirk, and the Latina girl is suddenly reminded why Finn Hudson would rather ask her for questions instead of the blonde.

* * *

"All of you have gotten to this point because you showed the traits that I'm looking for in my squad. Now, as I've said before, this tryout is _just_ a formality for the second one. But if I saw that you're unable to deliver, then you're still out. Is _that_ clear?"

"Yes, Coach!"

"Good! Now drop and give me a hundred! Don't start and stop until _I_ say so!"

All the girls dropped on their stomach as they scrambled to follow Coach Sylvester's instruction. They showed no disgust at the idea of touching the dirty gym floor and only expressed firm determination.

"Wait for it..." the coach said, deliberately setting his stopwatch slowly just to see who will cringe in disgust. She nodded to herself when she saw none. "Go!"

The girls straightened their elbows as they raised themselves, counting on time with the coach's counts. Coach Sylvester made sure that her counting is on par with the ticking seconds, which made the push-ups _faster_ than normal.

"...and one hundred! Stand up!" the coach commanded after exactly one hundred seconds. The girls stood up, most are starting to get breathless though they tried to hide it.

_Pathetic_, the coach thought as she surveyed the labored breathings of most of the girls. She saw only a handful of girls that didn't even break a sweat, including the two girls that she's got her eye on.

_Cement truck, now that's impressive_, she thought back with amusement. She recalled with delight how a red-faced, slightly disheveled, and fruity-scented Schuester barged into her office yesterday.

**[Flashback]**

"This is the _last_ straw, Sue! How dare you let your squad desecrate the sanctity of the Glee Club's room!"

"Ah, the curly-haired bane of my existence. What can my precious self offer you this time, hmmm?"

"I'll tell you why. There's currently a cement truck that's pumping _slushie_ on the Glee Club's floor."

"How unfortunate that is, William," Coach Sylvester drawled, propping her chin with her knuckles. "And how does that concern _me_?"

"Because it's _your_ fault with your squad's unnecessary pranking!"

"I'm gonna argue with your usage of the words 'sanctity' and 'fault' later and come back to my original question: how does your _inability_ to prevent tragedy in _your_ own domain concerns me in any way?"

"Are you even listening? I just said that your squad is responsible!"

"Do you have any proof?"

"I don't need any concrete proof to know that _you're_ the one responsible," Mr. Schuester hissed, the veins in his forehead visible in his apparent anger.

"Ah, but you do," the coach explained with a smirk as she leaned back. "The American legal system _clearly_ states that there should be proof in any kind of accusation. So, seeing how I 'desecrated the sanctity of the Glee Club's room', I should say that _that's_ a pretty _serious_ accusation that warrants_ definite _proof."

Mr. Schuester's face hardened as Coach Sylvester smirked in triumph, both aware of the answer to the question.

"One of _these_ days, Sue, I'll find a definite proof of your crimes," the curly-haired teacher declared before storming out to the older blonde's amusement.

"Becky?" Coach Sylvester called as soon as her door was slammed shut, a hanging picture frame vibrating at the force.

"Yes Coach?"

"Who was it?"

"Goldilocks and Fake-Boobs, Coach," the small girl replied.

_Interesting_, she thought, noting to herself that she'll definitely look out for those two tomorrow.

**[End of Flashback]**

"Okay ladies! Run around the gym until I tell you to stop. If someone faints or die of exhaustion, be respectful and try not to trample their weak and/or lifeless bodies."

"Go!"

The girls immediately followed, and the coach's sharp eyes focused on the two girls who automatically gravitated to one another.

_Now_, she thought, _which one of my two new gems is suited as the new squad captain?_

* * *

"That was brutal!"

"Yeah, I almost can't feel my legs."

"I _definitely_ can't feel mine."

The locker room is full of girlish chatter as Coach Sylvester finally deemed the first tryouts done. So far, three girls were already eliminated: one fainted due to exhaustion at the two-hour jogging around the gym while the other two were sent to the clinic because of severe dehydration in the middle of the one-hour suicides.

"The three hours of _mild_ physical labor is just a taste of what you'll face in the future. If you can't deal with it, then you're a weakling and not fitted to be a Cheerio," the coach said via her megaphone as the three girls were carted off.

When the final part came, they were instructed to individually 'audition' for a spot in the Cheerios.

"If you can't perform a routine after some light exercises, then you're _not_ worthy to be here," the older blonde reminded as she sat on her chair and barked the first name on the list.

Out of all the thirty girls, only twenty-three have survived, and most of them are chattering their pain away at the locker room.

Except for two.

Quinn and Santana chose not to comment as they came out of the shower with only towels to cover themselves. As they neared their temporarily assigned Cheerios lockers, they dropped the towels, displaying toned body that both worked hard for last year.

"What do you think the second tryouts will be?" a brunette named Michaela thought out loud, not addressing anyone specifically as she buttoned up her shirt.

"It could be anything," a redhead named Zoey piped in as she towel-dried her hair.

"Do you think she'll choose the next captain at the next tryouts?" a European-accented girl named Chloe asked as she put lotion on her legs.

"Maybe?" a raven-haired girl with Asian descent answered as she brush her long hair. "But I wouldn't want to be captain," she added with a shrug.

"Why not, Aoki?"

"I wouldn't be able to handle _that_ kind of pressure."

Most of the girls nodded in agreement, although some chose not to comment further as they busy themselves with their clothes.

"What do you think?" Santana whispered as most of the girls trickled out of the locker room.

"About what?"

"Being the captain. What do you think?"

The blonde shrugged as she blow-dried her hair. Once satisfied, she turned off the drier and answered. "Not that concerned, to be honest. If it was offered, then I'll take it."

The Latina hummed in agreement as she finished buttoning her shirt, making sure to leave at least three buttons untouched. Quinn rolled her eyes at the prominent display of cleavage as she fixes her bag.

Once they were done with asinine things, they got out of the locker with the thought of lunch. Since it's Coach Sylvester's tryouts today, all the potential Cheerios were automatically excused from some of their morning classes and the two friends are dying to go to the cafeteria to replenish their energy.

"Halt," a small figure suddenly appeared, her hand outstretched with palm facing the two surprised girls.

"Coach wants to talk to you," Becky explained before the two could ask as she turned around and started walking.

Knowing that it's their cue to follow, both girls internally groaned at the lunch delay.

"Sit," Coach Sylvester commanded as soon as Quinn and Santana stepped inside the office, the atmosphere almost identical to yesterday.

"What do you think of today's tryouts?"

The girls looked at each other in mild surprise at the question before shrugging.

The coach hummed, not offended by the nonchalance. "Do you have any idea why you're both here?"

The girls looked at each other again and Coach Sylvester took note of the almost symbiotic relationship of the two.

"We don't have any, Coach Sylvester," the younger blonde answered politely as the girl beside her just shrugged in reply.

_Huh_, the coach thought as she scrutinized the disposition of the two. "You're here because I'm both considering you for the position of squad captain."

The two visibly perked at the magic word and they both sat up straighter.

"About the rumor that I'll choose my captain at the next tryouts, it is _true_. However, I already chose my candidates _today_."

"And I chose the two of you."

"Just us?" the blonde asked, and the older blonde is starting to notice a pattern.

"Yes, just the two of you," the older blonde confirmed with a nod. "And since you are my candidates, I'll give you a clue on when the next tryouts will be."

The girls nodded as the older blonde continued. "It will be next week, though I wouldn't say exactly when or how the tryouts will play out. All you need to know is that my focus will be on the two of you, understood?"

"Yes, Coach," the two answered.

"Good. Don't mess up. I except some semblance of excellence from the two of you."

* * *

"We got in!"

"Got in where?"

"The football team, baby! Finn and I got in!" Puck excitedly reported as soon as he saw them. He gave a kiss to Santana's cheek before sitting opposite of her.

"That's great, babe," the Latina replied as she reached out for his calloused hand and squeezed it, smiling.

The boy raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically affectionate move and glanced at Quinn.

"Coach is considering one of us as the captain," the blonde offered as an explanation for Santana's good mood.

"Oh! That's awesome news!"

"What is?" a voice piped in.

"Dude, one of the girls is gonna be the new and hot captain of the Cheerios!"

"Whoah, that's better than our news," Finn commented with his boyish grin as he sit on his usual place beside Puck.

"Where is my food?" the Latina demanded as soon as Finn settled in.

"Oh, in here," the tall boy replied, reaching for a separate bag that he's carrying. "Mom is excited about our tryouts today so she packed more food. She just brought this earlier 'cause she wants to make sure that it's still warm."

"Tell Mrs. Hudson that I'm in-love with her," Santana commented as Finn handed her a Tupperware full of salmon in soft taco shells. "What I wouldn't give to have a chef as mother..." she trailed off with a moan as she took a bite.

"That's... kinda awkward," the tall boy commented, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he gave Quinn her Tupperware filled with eggplant lasagna in parmesan.

"Just tell her I said that, Finnessa," Santana retorted and the boy just nodded In compliance. "So... who else got in?"

"That Asian dude in my History got in. What was his name again?"

"Mike Chang," Finn supplied.

"Twinkletoes?" the Latina commented with a raised eyebrow. "That's unexpected."

"He's actually good," Puck added as he took a bite off of his big burger. "All his hip-hop and waltzing is actually awesome in the field."

The Latina just nodded as she took another bite of her soft tacos.

"What about the positions in the team?" Quinn asked as she fork some lasagna.

"I think we'll have another meeting for that? Today is just to test our endurance or something," Puck answered, finishing his burger in two more bites before reaching out for another.

A comfortable silence then settled at the table, all busy with their food provided by Finn's mother, just like the usual times of their lunch break.

"Sooo..." Finn drawled after a few minutes of silence, his thumbs twiddling with one another. Santana smirked, aware of what is coming because Finn will never let go of anything if he's curious enough. "Are we, like, _never_ gonna talk about that thing that is kinda secret about Quinn?"

"Dude..." Puck whispered, his eyes settling on the blonde who suddenly paused with her movements.

"I'm sorry!" Finn said, his eyes widening. "But you know how I am with secrets. I get too curious."

"So you made sure to butter me up with your mom's cooking so I'll be in a better mood?" the blonde asked after a few seconds.

"Well..."

Quinn chuckled lightly as she continued with her eating. Although Finn can be a bit dim, his logic to soften her up with her favorite eggplant lasagna is actually a genius move.

"If you must know, she'll be living with us from now on," the blonde supplied.

"Whoah... that's gonna be weird," the tall boy commented with wide eyes and the boy beside him nodded in agreement.

"Is she your twin that got separated from you?"

"Half-sister from my father."

"Wait... so did your dad chea-"

"No, he _didn't_," Quinn snapped with a glare and the tall boy immediately stopped with the question when he realized that he's pushing it a bit too far.

"How old is she?" Puck asked, his curiosity now piqued.

Quinn shrugged. "Same age? Maybe a couple of months older, I think."

"What does she look like?" the mohawked boy asked.

Quinn paused at the question. She's so angry and confused yesterday that she never bothered to _actually_ process what the other girl looks like.

She remembered fair hair, the same color as Russell's. Quinn's own hair is originally strawberry-blonde, but she got into the habit of coloring it with a more lighter hue. She doesn't know if the other girl colors her hair or not, but seeing as it was identical with Russell's, she surmised that it's natural.

She remembered the eyes, the same pale ones that she's familiar growing up. Her own is inherited from her mother, though the shape came from her father. Thinking back, she distinctly remembered that the other girl also bears the identical shape of both her and Russell's eyes.

The nose is a bit different, though. Hers broke when she's in middle school when a dodgeball hit her face hard. It was fixed now, although it somehow turned different from the original one. But the other girl's is perfectly chiseled and symmetrical, and Quinn surmised that she probably inherited it from the mystery mother.

The facial bone structure though, as she remembers, is exactly the same. Quinn surmised that they both inherited it from their shared father.

The body though, she remembers that the other girl has a softer and curvier one, although both of them are quite petite. Quinn thought that it may have stemmed from her own athleticism and from the other girl's god-knows-what-she-does.

All in all, Quinn surmised that Russell Fabray's blood is a strong one.

"She looks..." she started, visibly wincing at the words, "...almost like me."

* * *

"You're home."

"This is my home, Dad, as far as I can remember," Quinn answered as she unlace her boots. She can feel her father's stare as she picked up her shoes to be carried to her room.

"The boots can wait, honey. Go sit here so we can have a little chat," Russell said, patting the seat beside him. Quinn rolled her eyes, as per her usual reaction when her dad 'boss' her around.

"What're we gonna talk about?" Quinn asked as nonchalantly as she could.

The blonde man chuckled. "Oh honey, we _both_ know what we're going to talk about."

The blonde girl just shrugged in reply, not saying anything.

"Silent treatment? In that case, I think I'll go ahead with my prepared speech," the man quipped before clearing his throat in preparation for his 'serious' mode.

"I asked your mother what she told you and she relayed all the things that you're now aware and the things that you _should_ be made aware."

"Your mother and I are soul mates, you know that already," the blonde man explained and Quinn rolled her eyes at her father's words. "I love her the moment I saw her glaring knives at me when I collided into her during one of those god-awful charity marathons that Leroy is always dragging me into."

"But I'm with someone at the time who I care for deeply and who I thought I'm in-love with. In the end, breaking up with her is one of the _hardest_ thing I have to endure in my lifetime."

"Her name is Cassandra, and she has the kindest heart. She's the kind of girl who'll care for _anyone_, good or bad, as long as they need it. Because of her, I became overprotective of the people I care about, seeing as her personality is the type that could be taken advantage of by the wrong people."

Russell sighed, and Quinn saw the shame in his eyes. "But sadly, I became that wrong person one night."

"I was heartbroken, confused, and lost. She offered a hand to fix the mess that I've become that night. And in my drunken haze, I figured that I needed someone with me, someone who could make me _feel_."

"The morning after, I woke up in regret. In my panic, I decided to not wake her up and just ran away far from there. I walked and walked, then suddenly realized that I'm at the front door of your mother's house."

"I knocked and your grandmother answered. Now, you know how your grandparents used to _hate_ my guts," he quipped, and they both chuckled at that. "But that time, she never said anything to me. She just stared a few seconds then called Judy before leaving the door wide open. I waited outsid though, not daring to come inside without verbal permission, when your mother thundered down the stairs."

"I never told your mom this," Russell whispered in a conspiratorial manner. "But that moment is when I realized that your mom is the _one_ I'm going to marry."

"Really?" Quinn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Russell answered, his eyes twinkling. "She was wearing pajamas, no make-up, her hair in disarray with glasses perched on her nose, and all I'm thinking is that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That moment of revelation is enough to bring manly-tears to my eyes as I ran to her, hugging her tight."

"So _dramatic_..." the younger blonde quipped and Russell guffawed.

"Yeah, well, your mother does _many_ things to me," he quipped back with an eyebrow wiggle, and Quinn cringed.

"Ewww! Dad!"

"What? That's how you were brought into this world, _Quinnie Pooh_."

"Stop it!" the younger blonde admonished, playfully punching her laughing father. "And quit stalling!"

"Alright!" the blonde man chuckled. "I confessed everything to her that morning and she just listened. Then I told her not to leave me and that she's the love of my life, blah blah blah, and that I'll be lost without her."

"So you guilt-tripped Mom into coming back to you?"

"No," the blonde man tut-tutted, "I _charmed_ my way back into her heart."

"Whatever," the blonde commented with a grin.

Russell just rolled her eyes and patted his daughter's head to the blonde's annoyance. "Then she got pregnant and we lived happily ever after."

"What happened to Cassandra?"

The blonde man sighed, leaning back to the sofa with a far-away look. "I never saw her again after that night. I tried to find her just to apologize and maybe just to say hi."

"I tried for _years_ with no success. Then one day, a strange girl who looks like my Quinnie Pooh stepped into my office. She introduced herself as Charlotte Quinn Fabray and said that she is my _daughter_. I was in shock, of course, but then she took out an envelope addressed to me."

"It contained a faded letter from Cassandra, explaining the situation. Enclosed with the letter is a copy of Charlotte's birth certificate and Cassandra's... death certificate."

"I found out that she died five years ago due to cancer, and Charlotte has been living with her grandmother ever since. But when her grandmother recently died, she decided to come to me."

"So... she _knew_ you're her father?"

"She said she never knew who I was until her mother's death. Her grandmother gave her the letter and all the information about me and then instructed her to find me. But she decided not to, because her grandmother needs to be taken cared of."

"So... she's an orphan now?"

Russell smiled patiently. "Not _exactly_, honey. She's got a father and a sister."

"Half-sister," the blonde girl insisted petulantly.

The man just patted the girl's head and she swatted it with a pout. "Honey, she may be a stranger for now, but she's _still_ your sister. Try to be accommodating to her while she's here, okay?"

The blonde girl huffed. "I'll _try_, but I'm not gonna promise anything."

Russell hummed. "I think that's good enough for now. So, any more questions?"

"One more," Quinn replied, furrowing her eyebrows. "Why is her name _also_ Quinn?"

The man chuckled. "It's actually a silly thing on my part. When I was nine, I meet this boy named 'Arthur King'. I thought it was an awesome name because it sounds royal. From then on, I promised to myself that I'll name my future babies like royalty, so I reserved 'Queen' and 'King' as second names."

"As in Q-U-E-E-N?"

"Originally. But then I realized that it's too obvious, so I changed the girl version into Q-U-I-N-N."

"Still not answering the question, Dad."

The blonde man waved his hand dismissively. "I _may_ have shared to both your mom and Cassandra that piece of information."

"Huh. That's weird."

"In a way, maybe it's fate. Because you two look so alike that you even share names."

"That makes it even weirder, Dad."

Silence settled between the two as they mulled over the recent events.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"She's really gonna stay with us, isn't she?"

The blonde man hummed in agreement. "I think she's going to transfer to your school, too."

"What? Why?" Quinn exclaimed with wide-eyes, aghast at the information. She really doesn't want to explain to anyone that she's got a sister that she only met who is also gonna live with them from now on.

"Her old school is too far, honey. And that way, I could keep my eye on both of you," Russell calmly reasoned.

The blonde girl huffed. "Fine! But that doesn't mean that I'm going to _like_ it."

Russell chuckled at that. "You're going to get used to it eventually, honey," he said. "Now, I wanna watch that foreign horror film that my client told me about. Scoot over," he gestured to her, and they both settled into two hours of blood and gore, just like the usual.

* * *

"When is she going to transfer?"

"I dunno, he never said when."

"That's gonna be weird."

Quinn rolled her eyes, getting tired of hearing that word even though it aptly describes her life right now. "I _know_, but I don't have any choice."

"Is she there now?"

"I think she's in the guest room? I never bothered to check," the blonde shrugged, lowering herself on her bed with her phone still in her ear. She made sure that she stayed up late enough that she'll never bumped into the girl when she decided to go upstairs.

She doesn't want to see her, again.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I dunno, it seems like you're _hiding_ from her."

The blonde scoffed. "Of course not."

"But it _seems_ like you are."

The blonde huffed in annoyance. "What are you trying to _say_ here, Santana?"

She heard sighing on the other line and her eyebrows furrowed. "Look Blondie. You know we're sorta close and all that shit, so I'm _automatically_ on your side. I just think that she's practically an outsider and a stranger to your home. So, it's kinda weird to me that _you're_ the one who is tiptoeing around her. _She_ should be the one threading carefully at the waters, not you."

A frown surfaced from the blonde's features as she thought about Santana's words. Truthfully speaking, she was a bit irked when she heard singing on their kitchen as she and Russell were watching the movie. Then she saw in her periphery how comfortable - _too_ comfortable, in fact - Charlotte is at their home after _only_ two days.

It bothers her because yes, Charlotte is still a stranger, and yet she already has the _audacity_ to sit with them as they watch the movie and make some annoyingly chirpy comments about the movie's dedication to realism.

It irritates her that she's here practically _hiding_ when the other girl is free to roam the house with so much ease that Quinn is starting to get a little suspicious.

"You know what, Santana, you're right," Quinn declared resolutely, her voice starting to get edgy. "I shouldn't be the careful one. This is _my_ house, and she's just sharing _my_ territory."

"She should be the one who's careful with me and _not_ the other way around. And starting tomorrow, I'll make _sure_ of that."

"That's my Blondie," the Latina said and the blonde can almost hear the smirk in her voice. Quinn's own vindictive smirk surfaced, and it's laced with a promise of mischief.

_Welcome to the Fabray household, Charlotte..._

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 3

**Title:** A Cinderella Nightmare

* * *

**A/N:** I fixed the plot first (a.k.a. organized this mess) before starting with this chapter. Oh, and I typed this thing on my iPad. And for the life of me, the site kept on changing the fake emails (Is that a thing here? Sorry, I'm new to this stuff).

So for imagination's sake, just add 'imadethisupforshitsandgiggles . com' at the end of each fake emails. :]

Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews on the prologue and the first two chapters.

Enjoy. Review if you must.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **Meet The Step-Sisters

"Lucy, do you have something to say to your sister?"

"The waffles are soggy and bland."

"Oh... Sorry for that."

"Nonsense, Charlotte," the older blonde piped in disagreement before throwing an admonishing glance towards her daughter. "The waffles are perfect. Lucy is just being a brat as usual."

The hazel-eyed blonde huffed petulantly. "Stop calling me that name, Mom," the girl grumbled as she reached out for her mug, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

"That's _your_ name and that's what I'm going to call you," the older woman declared with finality on her tone as she reached out for her own mug. "And hurry up and finish your breakfast, Lucy, or you'll be late," she added after taking a sip of black coffee before turning her attention to the other blonde.

"Will you be alright here all alone, Charlotte?"

"Of course, Judy," the blue-eyed blonde reassured with a smile and a nod. "I'll just do some chores around the house to pass the time."

"Oh, don't bother yourself too much," the older woman said with a dismissive hand as she gently put down her mug. "Besides, it's _Lucy's_ turn to do the chores," she added pointedly before turning her attention on her waffle, taking another bite. Said girl murmured something under her breathe as she stabbed her own waffles with more force than necessary.

"No, it's okay. I don't have anything else to do, anyways," Charlotte reassured further, smiling brightly as she reached for a mug on her side containing chamomile tea.

"Well, if you insist," Judy said with a nod. "Though I don't want you to stress yourself too much, alright?"

"Yes, Judy," the blue-eyed blonde nodded.

On the opposite side of the table, Quinn is scoffing and grumbling under her breath as she stabbed another piece of waffle.

_Mom is never that nice to me_, she grumbled as she stabbed her breakfast again before taking a scrumptious bite. Truthfully speaking, the waffles are absolutely delicious and cooked to golden perfection. The whipped cream fruit toppings is also a good touch, especially the sprinkling of cinnamon and the dusting of powdered sugar on top.

It is so amazing that Quinn can't help but eat two pieces despite her strict diet.

_But I'm not going to tell her that_, Quinn thought petulantly as she takes another delicious bite, her eyes narrowing at Charlotte who is now pouring a suspicious, homemade juice.

"Hmmm... What is this?"

"Oh, that's my grandma's 'Seven Season Fruit Punch'," Charlotte explained cheerfully at the older blonde who is sipping on her glass, impressed. "I noticed that you have a lot of fruits that are in stock so I decided to make a batch for breakfast."

"It's absolutely delicious," Judy gushed as she took another sip.

"Thank you," the blue-eyed blonde said with a smile, grateful that the other woman appreciates her effort.

The older woman then polished her waffles and finished her glass of homemade juice. "I need to get going. I have a patient who's scheduled for a surgery at eight," she said as she stood up, picking the draped lab gown on the back of her chair.

"Have a nice day in school, Lucy," Judy said before walking her daughter's side and kissing the blonde's forehead. "See you later, Charlotte," she said before gently squeezing the other blonde's forearm.

"Take care, Judy," the blue-eyed blonde chirped and the older woman smiled indulgently before sauntering towards the door, opening it, then closing it softly behind her.

Back at the table, the hazel-eyed blonde is still in a bad mood as she stabbed her waffle, eyeing the girl opposite of her with suppressed distaste.

_Such a barbie doll,_ Quinn thought as she surveyed what the other girl is wearing: a sleeveless summer dress in black that's decorated with a flowery pattern. Her long hair is in a neat, high ponytail with some scattered bangs framing her forehead. Earlier, she saw that the other girl is wearing thin-framed glasses, but it's nowhere to be seen now.

_So girly_, the hazel-eyed girl thought with an eye roll as she watch how the other girl demurely pour the suspicious juice on a tall glass before taking a small sip with her pinky raised.

Feeling the eyes on her, Charlotte looked up and saw how Quinn has her eyes squinted at her. "Do you want some juice?" she offered, thinking that the other girl wants one.

The hazel-eyed blonde ignored the offer, but instead asked a question. "What's your deal?" she inquired, her eyebrows furrowing.

The blue-eyed blonde tilted her head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Quinn rolled her eyes before gesturing at the breakfast-laden table. "You've cooked yesterday and today," she impatiently explained. "Are you kissing up to my parents by making these _fancy _foods and homemade drinks?"

The blue-eyed blonde widened her eyes at the accusation."No, I'm just used to cooking for other people. I do that a lot back in Florida," she patiently explained as she tucks a loose hair behind her ear. "Don't you like you my waffles?"

Quinn pursed her lips at the puppy-look that the other girl sporting. "It's adequate," she just said before turning her full attention to her breakfast, vowing to herself to never reveal how much she loves the other blonde's cooking.

_Especially the blueberry cheesecake_, Quinn dreamily thought as she remembered the scrumptious and mouth-watering dessert that Charlotte whipped from scratch last night. _By this rate, I'm going to gain weight again_, she thought ruefully before absentmindedly taking another bite of her weight-gaining breakfast.

When she's a quarter away from polishing her plate, she absentmindedly looked up before narrowing her eyes. "Don't you need to do something else?"

Charlotte scrunched her eyebrows in confusion at the inquiry, so Quinn huffed before pointing at the empty plate in front of the other girl with her fork. "You're already done with breakfast."

"Yeah...?"

The hazel-eyed blonde rolled her eyes at Charlotte's confusion. "Why are you _still_ here?" she impatiently explained with an eyebrow arch to make her point across.

Pale blue eyes lit up in understanding when Charlotte finally got what Quinn is insinuating. "Oh!" she just said before smiling. "My mom and grandma taught me that it's bad manners to leave someone at the table when they are still eating," she explained, the bright smile not leaving her face as she straightened her posture and demurely clasped her both hands on her lap.

"Well, it's also rude to _not_ leave when said someone wants to be left alone to eat in peace," the hazel-eyed blonde retorted in annoyance.

The bright smile faded a little and Quinn saw a pinkish tinge gracing the other girl's cheeks. "Oh... Do you want me to leave now?"

_Why are you so nice, you nauseatingly fluffy princess?_ Quinn thought, annoyed at the reemergence of the puppy-look. "Fine, stay there. I'm done, anyways," she just said before hurriedly finishing her breakfast to get away, a bit rueful that she wouldn't be able to savor the last few bites.

But it seems that Charlotte wants her to stay longer. "So... how's your school?"

"Fine."

"Huh," the blue-eyed girl just said. "Is the people nice there?"

"No."

Charlotte hummed in reply. "Do you have any hobbies or-"

"Stop making small talks," Quinn snapped as she poured water into her glass, ignoring the suspicious juice. "I'm _not_ interested in talking to you," she said before gulping down the glass of water.

"Sorry," Charlotte timidly said, her pale blues widening as she nervously twiddled her thumbs.

The hazel-eyed girl huffed, despising the puppy-look. "I'm going to go," she just said before standing up and picking her sweater at the back of her chair.

"Oh, don't you want some jui-"

"I hate juice," Quinn lied. "And Dad will call later to check up on you. Be sure to keep an eye on the phone," she reminded, remembering Russell's text earlier:

_**Dad:** Quinnie Pooh, tell your sister that I'll be calling the landline later to check up on her. Love, Daddy._

Another smile surfaced from Charlotte's lips. "Thanks," she chirped.

_Urghhh! Stop smiling so much!_ Quinn thought before huffing. "Later," she just said before jogging towards the door.

"Take care, Quinn!" the hazel-eyed blonde heard before she slammed the door shut, jogging towards her car.

_At least she stopped calling me Lucy_, Quinn distractedly thought as she backed her car and drove away.

* * *

"So how's your twinsies?"

Quinn groaned in annoyance before slamming her locker shut, startling the curly-haired boy beside her. "Stop that," she spat at the smirking Latina. "She's only my half-sister, for god's sake."

The tanned girl shrugged indifferently, though the smirk widened. "Could've fooled me. You look so much alike," she quipped before chuckling when Quinn glared daggers at her. "Seriously though, how is she?" she asked again as the blonde slung her bag on one shoulder.

"Sickeningly sweet," Quinn answered with an eye roll as she started walking towards the cafeteria, the Latina in tow. "It makes me want to vomit," she added, her face scrunching in distaste as she remembered the past few days with Charlotte.

Last night is the worst so far. It was the first dinner where all of them are present and the night when Quinn realized that she should be vigilant about securing her 'only child' post. Charlotte is all smiles and politeness that night and Quinn is almost sure that there's a halo hiding on top of the girl's head.

"I hear you," the Latina agreed with a nod, her dark eyes flitting towards her left. Then her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed in distaste as she stared daggers at a certain area.

Curious, Quinn followed her eye sight and saw another blue-eyed blonde on a table who is currently conversing in Spanish with Mr. Schuester. The blue-eyed blonde is fluent in the language, enthusiastically waving her hands as the teacher opposite of her is bumbling an almost unintelligible reply.

_Of course_, Quinn thought with an eye roll when she saw her friend's eyes narrowing at the sight. The hazel-eyed blonde then dragged away the Latina before she do or say something.

Quinn then forcefully sat the Latina on their usual table before sitting opposite of her. She kept quiet as she observe the other girl huff and puff before Santana finally sighed. "Did you receive the e-mail?" the tanned girl asked after a whole minute of silence.

"Yeah," Quinn replied as she put her an elbow in the table, propping her chin with one hand. "Did anyone else did?"

Santana shrugged. "No, just the two of us," she commented before furrowing her eyebrows when she remembered something. "And what does she mean by night terrors?"

Quinn also furrowed her eyebrows at the inquiry. "I'm not sure..." she trailed off, remembering the e-mail she got last night:

_**To:** golden_highflier3/4  
**Cc/Bcc, From:** your_cheerio_overlord3813  
**Subject:** Survival Tryouts_

_The second tryouts will commence on Monday at exactly six o'clock in the evening. Make sure to be on time or you'll be disqualified._

_There'll be no iPhones, iPads, iPods, or any kind of electronic gadgets. If someone smuggled one, it will be immediately confiscated and I will give Becky the permission to smash it all in pieces with a sledgehammer before throwing the remains in fire._

_I am also legally required to ask if one of you have some form of trauma involving night terrors. If you have, then you're automatically disqualified and don't bother showing up._

_That is all._

_(For Goldilocks and Fake-Boobs: I sent you this message two days earlier than the others. Keep that a secret or I'll either kick you out of the tryouts or hunt you down for disobedience. Probably both.)_

_-__Susan Sylvester, PhD, Coach Extraordinaire and Overall Champion of the World_  


"Oh, before I forget," the Latina piped in as Quinn continues to mull over the possibilities of night terrors. She rummaged through her bag and produced a notebook, throwing it on the table. She then haphazardly riffled through the blank pages before getting two papers full of written computations in between two leafs.

"Here," Santana said as she handed over her Physics and Chemistry homework that are due on Monday.

Quinn smiled at the sight as she took it from the Latina's hands. "Thanks," she said before she, too, rummaged though her bag to take out a notebook. She flipped some pages full of handwritten notes before nestling the papers in between two leafs.

"No, thank _you_," Santana said with a grin. "I got an A on that English homework yesterday."

The hazel-eyed girl chuckled before raising an eyebrow. "And are these worth an A?" she asked, gesturing at the notebook in front of her.

The Latina scoffed playfully. "Are you doubting my skills?" she asked before throwing her notebook on her bag.

Quinn just chuckled in reply, knowing that the Latina is aware that she's just kidding. She then looked around, raising an eyebrow again when she noticed that something is amiss.

"Where are the boys?" she asked, still looking around. Usually by this time, the two boys will already be pestering them.

"I think today is the day that they'll be informed of the team positions," the Latina replied before sighing, seemingly sad and disappointed. "So I don't think Finnessa will be able to feed us today."

"We can always buy our lunch," Quinn said with a raised eyebrow, although she can understand her friend's complaint: the cafeteria food pales in comparison to a professional chef's cooking. "And do you think one of them can be the quarterback?"

The Latina shrugged. "Maybe. They're decent players, and it's not like the team is _teeming_ with amazing players to choose from anyway," she reasoned sarcastically before standing up.

"C'mon, Blondie. Let's cut in line," Santana declared with a smirk and Quinn rolled her eyes before standing up, too.

"I saw JewFro in front. I'll just threaten to burn his hair so we cou-"

_Thump!_

"I'm so sorry!"

_Uh oh_, Quinn mused, her hazel eyes wide as she saw the Latina's shocked face. She then witnessed how it morphed into a murderous expression when it focused on a pair of surprised, blue eyes.

"Are you blind?!" Santana screeched loudly and the whole cafeteria went silent. "Look at what you did!" she shouted, gesturing at her low-cut shirt now covered with mashed potatoes and gravy.

"I'm sorry! It was an accident!" Brittany reasoned with wide eyes. She then started turning her head left and right, obviously searching for something. She then bounded over in front of the cafeteria line, talked to the lunch lady, and came back with a big pack of tissues still in plastic.

"Here..."

Santana angrily snatched the proffered rolls before dabbing the ruined top with a large wad of tissues.

"Don't come near me!" the Latina hissed when the blue-eyed blonde tried to come closer, presumably to help.

"It's just... I have an extra top," Brittany timidly offered as she unzipped her bag, taking out a white top, "and you could borrow it if you wan-"

"I'm not borrowing anything from you," Santana snapped, still furiously dabbing her front with tissues.

"Okay..." the blonde trailed off, taken back by the venom. "But it's yours if you wan-"

"Listen here, you bleach-haired Einstein wannabe," the Latina hissed, throwing the used tissues with excessive force before unrolling fresh ones. "I'll rather walk around _topless_ than let _anything_ of yours touch my skin," she declared venomously.

"Please don't do that..." Brittany whispered with wide-eyes, but the other girl didn't hear because she's already whipping around and storming out, barking at the people in her way who are busy watching the drama unfold.

"Hey, I'll take this," Quinn said, taking the white top from the frozen blonde. "Don't worry about that topless thing. I'll make sure she wears this," she assured and the other girl just nodded absentmindedly, still shocked.

The hazel-eyed blonde then took off jogging to catch her friend. She didn't have to hurry though, because the screams of terror and the loud voice spewing Spanish profanities are enough to pinpoint Santana's location.

"Santana," Quinn started as soon as she get inside the bathroom, almost colliding with a girl who is running in tears, "stop being a drama queen and just take this," she said, handing over the borrowed shirt.

"Get that away from me!"

"Seriously?" the blonde said, chuckling in amusement at Santana's attempt to dab her shirt with wet paper towels. "Don't tell me that you'll follow through with your topless threat?" she questioned, earning her a glare from the Latina.

"Just look at it this way," Quinn started again, her voice morphing into a placating one. "After you're done with this," she said, waving the folded shirt in front of her scowling friend, "you can shred it with scissors."

"Heck, you can even use it to curse her or whatever," she added with a shrug, and she saw how the Latina's heavy scowl morphed into a thoughtful expression.

"Fine," Santana finally acquiesced. She then shucked off her dirty top before wetting another set of paper towels and cleaning her chest area. "She ruined mine anyways, so I'll just ruined hers," she grumbled before snatching the offered shirt and wearing it.

Quinn rolled her eyes at her friend's lack of modesty. "Atta girl," she sarcastically said. "Now, let's go back. We still have enough time for lunch."

* * *

"Welcome home, Quinn! Oh, hi Santana!"

"Hey, other Blondie," the Latina greeted back in faux cheeriness, smirking when the other blonde rolled her eyes. "Wait," tanned girl suddenly paused, her dark eyes widening, "is _that_ crème brûlée?"

"Yep," Charlotte chirped as she torched away in the kitchen counter, pushing the glasses atop her nose further on her face. "I'm experimenting with the base recipe. You know, adding something extra," she added with a smile, the hem of her dress dress fluttering as she swayed and hummed a tune under her breath.

"Well, consider me your test subject on this experiment," Santana declared, eagerly scurrying forward - to Quinn's chagrin - to the kitchen as soon as the blonde is done with the small torch. Charlotte then gave her a spoon, told her to be mindful of the temperature, before the half-Latina spooned a mouthful.

Quinn scoffed at her friend's appreciative moaning and the other blonde's delighted smile. "Why are you cooking? I thought you'll do chores?" she inquired with a frown as she sat down on a stool on the island counter.

"I'm already done with it," the blue-eyed blonde said with a smile, and a Quinn raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm just passing time."

"Why can't you just watch TV like a _normal_ person instead of cooking again?"

"Hey! Don't tell her what to do!" Santana piped in after another mouthful of the dessert. "She can do whatever she wants and _cook_ whatever she wants," she declared, plopping on a stool besides Quinn and ignoring the hazel-eyed blonde's glaring in favor of enjoying her dessert.

"Thank you. And oh, before I forget," Charlotte said after cleaning up the kitchen. "I was actually waiting for you to come home. Daddy wants me to go to his office now. He said you'll drive me there," she said with another smile, and Quinn groaned.

"Yeah, I know," she just said, remembering her father's other text that she received on the drive home.

_**Dad:** Quinnie Pooh, drive your sister to my office after you get home. Love, Daddy._

"Great! I'll just go take a shower! Wait here," the blue-eyed girl chirped before walking away from the two.

"Enjoy your shower!" the Latina called at the other girl's retreating back. "Ow! What was that for?"

"I thought you're on _my_ side?" Quinn hissed, annoyed at her friend's betrayal.

"I am!" Santana hissed back, rubbing her slightly sore arm.

"Then why are you so chummy with her?"

"Dude, have you tasted this? This is, like, _heaven_," Santana reasoned, moaning appreciatively again at another spoonful. "You know how I love food. Why do you think I tolerate Finnept's presence?"

Quinn glared hard, but she doesn't have any counter argument for that. "Give me that!"

"Hey! That's mine!" the Latina called indignantly at the blonde who snatched the dessert and hopped off the stool, chuckling.

Quinn just shrugged as she spooned a big portion. "Your loss," she said with a smirk before spooning another big one, emptying the cup in the process to the Latina's horror.

"Why you little..."

The two girls are still wrestling on the carpeted floor of the living room when Charlotte came back thirty minutes later, her hair down and glasses gone. Her pale, blue eyes widened at the chaos in front of her.

"Uhmmm... What is going on here?" she tentatively asked.

"She took my crème brûlée!"

"Don't be such a baby," Quinn teased and the Latina growled before pushing the hazel-eyed blonde on the carpeted ground and started pulling her hair.

"Stop stop!" the blue-eyed blonde tried to reprimand, though her disposition is not firm enough. "I can always make another, Santana," she gently tried to coax the Latina when she saw how Quinn is sputtering from the chokehold. "How about I make one after we get back from Dad's office? You can come with us," she added with a smile.

"Sure," the Latina agreed with a grin, letting go of the sputtering blonde to Charlotte's relief. "C'mon, Blondie!" she said as she stood up, offering her hand to the Quinn who is busy calling the Latina every bad name ever invented by mankind.

The trip to Russell Fabray's office is uneventful, save for the few snarky exchange between the driver and the Latina seated on the passenger's seat.

"C'mon, Blondie. Don't be _such_ a baby," Santana drawled with a smirk, parroting the other girl's comment earlier. Quinn glared daggers at her, but stopped herself from retorting when they're at the guard's post.

"There's my girls!" Russell boomed joyfully as soon as they stepped inside the spacious office. He pulled the two blonde to him before giving them both a big hug - to Quinn's horror and Charlotte's delight - simultaneously. "Oh, and there's my favorite Latina!" He exclaimed before hugging the other girl.

"Hey, Russell," the Latina said, smiling at the man.

"Come in," The blonde man then said, gesturing the three inside. He pointed at the sofa before going to his desk. "So this is for you," he said as soon as he's in front of the three again, giving a box to Charlotte.

"Thank you, Daddy!"

"Dad, you could've just given her that later," Quinn commented when she saw the brand new smartphone that the blue-eyed blonde is now inspecting.

"But I can't," Russell explained, his eyes twinkling in merriment at the sight of his excited daughter. "I'll be going to New Jersey for a three days. I'll drive to the airport immediately after work and I'll be back on Monday night."

The indifferent daughter just shrugged. "So? Give it to her on Monday night."

"But she needs it now because she'll start school on Monday," the blonde man explained further, chuckling at the surprised gasp from Charlotte. "All your documents are already processed and you're good to go," he said, directing the statement to the smiling blonde.

_Great_, Quinn thought, her lips curling in distaste. _Time for my nightmare to begin_.

_My fluffy, smiling nightmare_, she thought with a wince when she saw how wide Charlotte's smile is.

"Oh, and Quinn?" Russell added, turning his attention to the sulking blonde. "Can you drive Charlotte to the mall and _help_ her pick some new clothes?"

_What?_ she thought, aghast at the suggestion. _You conniving old man_, she thought again, groaning at Russell's smirk and Charlotte's expectant smile.

_He planned this!_ she internally screamed, cursing her father's attempt to get his two daughters to bond.

"Here," Russell said as he fished out his wallet and took out his credit card, ignoring the glare that his daughter is undoubtedly throwing his way. "Go crazy on the shopping, but not _too_ crazy," he added with a chuckle.

Charlotte's eyes widened at the blonde man's statement. "Oh, but that's too much-"

Russell waved a dismissive hand, cutting off the blue-eyed blonde's protests. "It's the least I can do, Charlotte," he reasoned, and Quinn saw the flicker of sadness in her father's eyes before it morphed again to it's usual twinkle. "So, off you go!"

The two blondes then skipped towards Russell - well, Charlotte _skipped_ while Quinn trudged petulantly - to give him a kiss on his cheek. Hazel eyes narrowed when the other blonde gave a lingering hug.

The trio then exited the office and walked towards the elevator. They got in, pressed the button that'll lead them to the ground floor, and stood quietly - Charlotte hummed while Quinn huffed at the humming - as they descended.

"Why are you _not_ complaining?" Quinn hissed quietly as soon as they were walking towards the parking lot with the other blonde in front. "Are you seriously _okay_ with being dragged around the mall?"

Santana shrugged nonchalantly. "I get to have my dessert after," she reasoned as the three opened the car doors.

* * *

"Wait, are you kidding me?"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either," the girl on the other line chuckled.

"Wow," Quinn just said as she laze around the living room, reading a fashion magazine. It's Saturday afternoon, and her homework is already done courtesy of the Latina who is currently reporting about Finn being the _quarterback._

As in Finn Hudson, a.k.a. Finnept, Finnessa, Finnderella, and the occasional 'Finn the Dim' (Santana's proudest one, yet) is the _new_ quarterback of McKinley High football team.

Mindfuck.

"Wait, so Finn is throwing the party?"

"No, _Puck_ is," Santana corrected, and the hazel-eyed girl heard shuffling from the other line. "He said something about showing his support for his bro, or whatever gay thing that spouted from his mouth," she added, and the blonde chuckled at the quip.

"And it's tonight?" Quinn asked rather distractedly because Charlotte just came out of the bathroom, a bit sweaty and disheveled.

The Fabray's cleaner quit almost a month ago due to personal reasons (pregnancy). And since the two older Fabrays are too busy with work, they're always forgetting to hire another one, leaving Quinn with a ton of chores every weekends (and sometimes even weekdays).

That said, the hazel-eyed blonde _doesn't_ feel sorry for giving all her chores to Charlotte.

_If she wants to be a part of this family, she gotta pay her dues_, she thought with a smirk as the blue-eyed blonde fixes her a skewed glasses with one gloved hand.

"...are you even _listening_ to me?"

Quinn was snapped from her observations when she heard the girl on the line hissed impatiently. "Yeah, sure. What was it again?"

She heard a huff. "I just said that yes, it's tonight. The whole football team and the Cheerios are present. Even the girls who are eligible for the squad is invited, and _that_ includes you and me."

"I don't know..." Quinn trailed off, remembering her mother's instructions. She will be home late - three a.m. kind of late - because of the five surgeries that she needs to perform today. Since Russell is away for a contract in New Jersey, the hazel-eyed blonde will be all alone at home and Judy firmly stated that she stayed on the house.

_Oh yeah, there's also Charlotte_, she absentmindedly thought when she caught a glimpse of the other blonde who is now vacuuming the living room.

"Blondie, this is our first party with the elites of McKinley High," Santana insisted. "This is what we've been working for, and you don't _know_?"

"No, I-" Quinn started then paused, sighing. "I know that, Santana. But Mom said to stay at home."

"Why?"

"They're both gone," she shrugged though the other girl won't be able to see. "I'm on house-sitting duty."

"Then ask your sister to house-sit instead."

_Why didn't I think of that?_ she mused before remembering why: she doesn't _trust_ the other girl.

_That freakin' smile is so not trustworthy_, Quinn thought as she observed the other blonde's humming and vacuuming. "I can't."

"Why not?"

The hazel-eyed blonde huffed. "I just can't."

The Latina sighed. "Look, Blondie. Just act nice and convince her that you'll just go to some safe, _non-alcohol _party to celebrate your friend's success."

Quinn chuckled despite herself. "Non-alcoholic?"

She can almost see in her mind's eye how Santana rolled her eyes. "I was forced by your mom to spend time with her. And in those few minutes, I figured that she's a goody-two-good-shoes."

"So if you assured her that there's no alcohol," Santana added as Quinn saw the other blonde crouching to get the vacuum cleaner under the furnitures, "then she'll _definitely_ agree."

"Why do I _have_ to reassure her?"

"Because you need her," the girl on the other line said simply. "Look, I know how she still gets your panties in a twist," Quinn scrunched her face at the unsavory choice of words, "but that's why _acting_ is invented. _Just_ act. It's not that hard."

"Says you."

The Latina huffed, seemingly frustrated. "_Fine_, I'm going to go. But remember this," she added, her voice turning low, "Finnessa, your childhood _friend_, would want you there to celebrate with him. Think of how he'll be so _disappointed_ when his blonde buddy is not there."

Quinn pursed her lips at that statement, knowing that Santana's aware that _that_ hits home. Finn is her friend, and it's not a friendly thing to _not_ show support when it's doable.

_But..._

_C'mon, Quinn! You can do it!_

_I don't wanna..._

_It's just for tonight. After this, you can go back to disliking the fluffy princess._

_But I'll have to be nice to her..._

_Think of Finn!_

_Er, no thanks?_

_What? No! I mean think of your friend, Finn!_

_Fine..._

"Fine," the hazel-eyed blonde said out loud with a defeated sigh.

"Good," the other girl said, and Quinn can detect the smug tone. "I'll pick you up at eight and we'll carpool in my car. See you later."

"Later," Quinn said before hanging up. She then turned her attention to the other blonde who is still vacuuming, pensive.

She stared, contemplating on what to say and how to say it. And when she's pretty sure that she got it all figured out, she took a deep breath and exhaled. "Hey... Charlotte?"

The blue-eyed blonde looked up from rearranging the trinkets near the TV and saw a sweet smile from the other blonde. "Can you stay here while I go out?" Quinn added, adding a saccharine quality to her tone.

Charlotte can't help but smile back at the unusually sweet smile from her sister, but then her expression morphed into confusion at the request. "But... Judy said that we both should stay home."

Quinn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "I know _that_," she replied, mindful of not snapping at the other girl. "But there's a celebration at a friend's house tonight. Just a _quiet_, little get-together among friends," she added, remembering Santana's advice. "He just became the new quarterback."

"Oh," the blue-eyed blonde said as she pushed her glasses with her index finger. "But-"

"Charlotte," the hazel-eyed blonde drawled, schooling her face into her sweetest expression. "I'll be home before you know it. Here," she added before reaching over the bedside table and picking up Charlotte's new phone, "this is my number. You can text or even call me if you want," she said after typing her number and handing the phone back to its owner.

"Uhmm, okay..."

"Good," Quinn said with a friendly smile and nod, earning her a smile at the still slightly wary girl. "Santana will be here at eight and we'll both go to my friend's house," she added as she stood up, sauntering towards her room.

_What do you know_, she thought with a smirk as soon as she closed the door, _I have the potential to be an actress._

* * *

"It's too crowded!"

"I know! Isn't it great?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at that before looking around. The party is already in full swing, and it's only eight p.m.

"Baby!" a voice boomed, before muscular arms lifted the Latina besides her. "I missed you," Puck crooned before capturing the girl's lips in a searing kiss. Quinn huffed before taking her eyes off the nauseating display to observe the surroundings.

Santana is right, the _entire_ football team is here, still (curiously) wearing their letterman jackets. Quinn surmised that they may be too excited to be a part of the team (or they just want to brag).

There's also the familiar girls who just survived Coach Sylvester's first tryouts, coupled with some girls who are actual Cheerios. They are dancing on the living room - the furnitures were pushed to have a wider berth - and against an awkward looking and blushing boy.

The blonde left the still french kissing - now with added groping - couple and sauntered towards the awkward boy who is fist-pumping half-heartedly to the music's beat.

"Hey, Finn," the blonde greeted. "Enjoying yourself?" she added with a smirk as she looked pointedly to a girl - Chloe, she remembers - who is busy grinding at him.

"Hey, Quinn!" the boy greeted back, smiling brightly. Excusing himself from the throngs of girls who are busy throwing themselves at him, he walked to the blonde girl and hugged her.

_Whatever_, she thought with a smirk when the four girls glared at her. She hugged the boy back just to mess with the four, and one girl huffed before storming out, the three girls following her.

"You're here!" Finn exclaimed as she finally let go of Quinn. "I can finally talk to normal girls!" he added, and the hazel-eyed blonde chuckled at his statement. "Where's Santana?"

Quinn turned her head around, then rolled her eyes before gestured at the couple who is busy making-out under the stairs.

"Oh, right," Finn just said when he saw how the Latina jumped and wrapped her legs around the mohawked boy's hips. "I don't think they should do that in the open," he commented when he saw how the mohawked boy pressed himself firmly on the Latina while grinding his pelvis, earning him a loud moan from the girl.

"Yeah... But you know how they can be," Quinn just commented, her lips pursed in both amusement and disgust at the blatant display. The other partygoers caught wind of the show, and some people started cat-calling them and encouraging them.

When he noticed that people are starting to fish out their phones to presumably record them, Puck stopped his ministrations. He then kissed his pouting girlfriend before gently dragging her upstairs, accepting the high-fives given to him by his teammates on the way up.

"There we go," the hazel-eyed blonde commented as they witnessed the couple's ascent to the second floor. "I hope you thoroughly sanitize your bedroom tomorrow."

"Nah, it's okay," Finn said, waving his hand dismissively at the quip. "Puck and I had a deal. He'll be cleaning my room when they have sex," he said, smiling his boyish smile.

Quinn raised an impressed eyebrow. "Impressive, and in exchange for what?"

The tall boy shrugged. "For this party? I don't really want to have one. He just insisted."

The blonde frowned at that. "You shouldn't let him do that."

"He has a point, though," Finn reasoned with a shrug. "I'm the quarterback now, so I should be cool. And parties are cool," he explained, and Quinn can't help but chuckle at the simple explanation.

"Still, you're _not_ Puck. You hate alcohol."

"That's why I have this," he whispered, raising the cup his clutching to her eye-level. Quinn smirked when she realized that it's just apple juice. "You want some?" he asked, sipping on the fruity goodness.

Quinn paused at the question, pensive. She's not really partial to alcohol, preferring hot chocolates or even milkshakes.

But then she remembered how her life has changed in just a couple of days. She remembered how a _stranger_ introduced herself to their life, forcing her family to adjust just to accommodate said stranger.

She also remembered yesterday when she was basically forced to bond with the stranger through shopping. She remembered the flurry of dresses and girly things, and how she also bought some pretty expensive things just to spite her conniving father.

Suddenly, drinking seems a _pretty_ good idea.

"I want to drink," she declared when she remembered that from now on, she's not her father's only daughter anymore.

Charlotte Quinn Fabray is now part of her life, whether she wants it to or not.

She'll rather _not_.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh. Well, there are wine coolers in the fridge if you want. Is that okay?"

"Sure," Quinn said with a nod before standing up. "C'mon," she said, dragging the tall boy to the kitchen to lead her to the booze.

For the first hour, Quinn stuck to wine coolers. But when the clock slowly strikes to midnight, the list of alcohols that she consumed got longer and longer. At eleven o'clock, she, Santana, Puck, some Cheerios, and even some football players are taking shots after shots of tequila.

"Oh! I know what's awesome!" Puck shouted with wide eyes. He then poured another shot - messily - into his shot glass, then raising the glass before dramatically inhaling.

"Body shots!" he shouted with a fist-pump and he was greeted by enthusiastic, drunken shouts in reply.

Quinn knew that she should not participate, but her inebriated state is much more loose than her morality. Puck started the event by picking - of course - Santana as his partner.

He tugged her closer, earning a handful of cat-calls, before gently running his tongue on her collarbone. Smirking, he salted the licked area, brought the lime in between the Latina's pouty lips, and licked the salt off before taking his shot. He then went for the lime, and when it's done, he went for a kiss.

The kiss went longer than appropriate, but no one is really complaining (except for Finn who is busy drinking his apple juice and _not_ participating on the reason that good hosts don't get drunk).

And when the longer-than-really-necessary kiss is done, the Latina smirked before curling her finger seductively, gesturing for the hazel-eyed blonde to come closer.

_Oh boy..._ she thought, remembering the times when the Latina gets a little 'handsy' with girls when drunk. But with the help of the alcohol in her system, Quinn didn't think of it too much as she clumsily walked towards the smirking Latina.

Quinn is never at the receiving end of the attention, but she was about to be on one.

Santana tugged the blonde closer to her, her expression predatory. She then started unbuttoning Quinn's shirt, exposing her bra to the delight of the boys. The hazel-eyed blonde is about to complain when the Latina bent over and licked the blonde's _cleavage_.

_Oh... _Quinn thought, her mouth widening in surprise when she saw how the other girl salted that area before a grinning Puck handed her a shot.

"This is so hot..." the mohawked boy muttered in obvious delight as Santana put a wedge of lime in between the blonde's lips. She then winked before taking the shot then bending over to lazily run her tongue on the salted skin.

"Top that, Blondie," the Latina whispered in the blonde's mouth after she's sucked the lime off of her lips.

Quinn was snapped from her trance when she heard that before narrowing her eyes at the Latina's smug expression. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she can't let Santana win this thing... _whatever_ this is.

Hazel eyes roamed around the circle, looking for an attractive partner to top Santana's act. She winced at the selection of boys, because the only attractive one is _Puck_ (there's Finn, but she won't go _there_). After a a few seconds of indecisiveness, the booze then pointed to an attractive brunette wearing a short skirt and tight top that Quinn remembered at the tryouts.

"Hey... Michaela, right?"

"Yeah?"

The blonde then gestured the brunette to her, and all the boys clapped at the choice. Quinn figured that the brunette is also drunk when she just enthusiastically skipped towards her.

_Or maybe she wants this..._ she thought, but shrugged it off since it's not relevant. Smirking, she gestured the girl to hop on the table. Without losing the smirk, she crouched down and slowly raised the girl's skirt.

When there's no protest from the brunette, she then pushed her legs apart and _very_ slowly ran her tongue on the girl's inner thigh, much to the delight of the boys.

"Salt," she ordered with a snap of her fingers before a very eager Puck handed it to her. She then gestured for the boy to fill her shot glass before turning her attention to the thigh, dusting the moist area with the salt-shaker.

When she is handed her shot and wedge of lime, she looked up to the girl in front of her - the girl is blushing heavily and her breathing is ragged - before closing in on the thigh and licking the salt off. Quinn heard a subtle hitch of breath before she took her shot.

_Oh, I'm not yet done_, she thought when she saw her Latina friend with an impressed eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. She then squeezed the lime on her hand, making a mess on the girl's thigh.

The other girl gasped, surprised, before she squeaked and moaned when Quinn started slurping the lime off of the thigh. She squeaked again when the blonde sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

"Nice, Blondie," Santana said with a grin when the hazel-eyed blonde straightened up.

Quinn smirked before turning to look at the brunette. "Thanks," she said, offering her hand to the girl.

"Anytime," the brunette replied rather dreamily, her eyes still glazed as she hopped off the table.

The room is full of cat-calls and claps, with the loudest being Puck. Quinn's drunken self soaked it all in, giddy at the attention. Hazel eyes roamed the crowd, her smile getting bigger at the sight of her approving peers.

But then her eyes caught an unexpected person, and she paused.

"Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes widened at the vision of a blue-eyed blonde who is wearing a white dress, her blonde hair in side-swept ponytail and her glasses folded on her collared neckline. The girl's eyes are as wide as Quinn's, though probably for a different reason.

"Whoa, who is the hottie?"

"Doesn't she look like Quinn?"

"Is she her sister?"

The hazel-eyed blonde snapped from her trance when she heard the murmuring getting louder and louder. She then stomped her way towards the other girl and dragged her outside, feeling the sobering effects of the shock at seeing Charlotte.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed as soon as she let go of the girl.

"It's late and you're not yet home," Charlotte explained.

"How did you even find this place?"

"I texted Dad."

"You what?!"

"No, no," the blue-eyes blonde placated when she saw the murderous glint on the hazel eyes. "I didn't tell him you're gone. I just told him that you mentioned how a friend of yours is a quarterback. He then gushed about someone named Finn Hudson, and I saw Hudson on that list in the kitchen," Quinn huffed at that, remembering the emergency contact list, "and it was the only Hudson there, so I figured it's where you are."

"So? Why did you _have_ to go here?"

"Because it's late," Charlotte said simply, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, "and you told me that there'll be no alcohol."

Quinn rolled her eyes before crossing her arms in defiance. "Well, I lied."

"Why would you do that?" the other girl asked, tilting her head in confusion. "Never mind, let's just go home, please? Judy has been calling nonstop to check up on you."

"You should've just told her that I'm asleep."

"But you're not."

"I'm _obviously_ not," Quinn sarcastically retorted, "but you should've just said that."

"But that'll be lying."

"So?"

The furrowed eyebrows deepened in at that. "Lying is bad," Charlotte slowly said, as if trying to explain something so obvious.

But Quinn doesn't want to listen. The alcohol in her body is making her more defiant and more impatient than usual. "You know what," she just said with a dark chuckle, her body turning around, "I don't _care_. Just tell her the truth if you want," she finished before turning completely around.

"But-"

Quinn suddenly whipped around, her face venomous. "Just go!" she exploded, and the other girl jumped in both surprise and fright.

Though surprised, Charlotte pushed through with convincing her sister. "But Quin-"

"Urghhh! Haven't you had enough?!" the hazel-eyed blonde spat as she continued, cutting off the blonde's protests. "First, you force yourself into my family. _Then_ you started cooking and cleaning and _all_ that good girl shit so _my_ parents would want you to stay. And now you're _lecturing_ me on how to hang out with my friends?"

"That's not my intenti-"

"I don't care!" Quinn shouted again, the other girl jumping again at the sheer volume. "I don't _care_ about whatever bullshit intention you have, because you're _nothing_ to me."

"You're _not_ my sister," she hissed, her body vibrating in anger. "You never is and never will be. So stop acting like you are," she finished, her face flushed - before with intoxication - with anger.

Charlotte just stood there, obviously shocked at the outburst. Then the hazel-eyed blonde saw the welling of tears in those pale, blue eyes.

"I-I'm sorry..." the blue-eyed blonde whispered, her hands raising to subtly wipe at her eyes. Quinn felt something akin to regret at the sight, but she _stomped_ it hard deep inside her.

_She deserves it_, the hazel-eyed girl internally reasoned when she saw Charlotte slowly backing away.

"I'll just go... Take care..." the blue-eyed blonde trailed off before walking towards the car that Quinn noticed as her own.

She scoffed before turning away and walking back to the house, not even bothering to check whether Charlotte drove off safely.

When she got inside, the party is still in full swing. She then accepted the shot that Santana handed to her after answering the question on whether or not Charlotte went back home.

_And what do you know_, she mused when she caught a glimpse of a wall clock that says twelve o'clock_, Cinderella is really gone at midnight._

* * *

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 4

**Title:** A Cinderella Nightmare

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait. Got things to do, errands to run. And for those reviewers who are asking the same question, patience is a virtue. :)

Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews.

Enjoy. Review if you must.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **Cinderella's Story

Ten years ago:

The blonde woman looked up, her dark blue eyes glancing at the wall clock. It was one p.m., and a little blonde is suppose to come home now. Sighing, she continues to stir the vegetable soup. It was her own mother's recipe, and she just hopes that she does it justice.

She hummed, her lips curling in a fond smile at the mental image of the blonde girl's delighted smile. Another ten minutes went by when she heard the soft padding of footsteps. Smiling brightly, she looked up from her cooking to greet her daughter, but then her eyes widened at what she saw. "Charlotte! What happened?"

The little blonde - her eyes red and her face decorated with tear tracks - ran towards the blonde woman, crying. "K-Kitty and I fought, Momma," the girl said, clutching to her mother who crouched down to the little girl's level. The older woman busied herself with rubbing the girl's back in a comforting manner as the little girl continues to sniffle and stutter. "S-She said I was lying about having a d-daddy."

"Oh, honey..." Cassandra murmured softly, shushing the little girl's crying. "Don't worry about her. I'll talk to her mother tomorrow, okay?"

The little girl nodded in agreement, but still clung to her mother tight as the tears slowly subside. The blonde woman just let her be, all the while murmuring comforting words. A few minutes went by and Cassandra felt that the girl has finally calmed down. She then pulled her body away slightly and smiled adoringly at her daughter. Raising her hand, she softly wiped the tears away from chubby cheeks.

"Momma?" Charlotte whispered, her light blue eyes shimmering still.

"Yes, baby?"

The little girl lowered her gaze slightly. "Where's my daddy?"

The woman paused, pensive. Although she has avoided the question like a plague every time it was brought up, she figured that it's right time to answer the question.

_Or at least partially answer it_, she thought as she stared at girl's tear-streaked face.

Cassandra sighed. "C'mere..." she coaxed as she stood up, holding the girl's hand and leading them both to the living room. She then gracefully sat down, her daughter mirroring her with an almost similar grace.

"Do you remember the story I told you about?" she started, trying to ease her way into the explanation.

The little girl crunched her eyebrows adorably. "But there's so many, Momma."

The woman chuckled as she affectionately ruffled the girl's blonde hair, earning her a giggle. "The one about the brave knight, dear," she clarified.

Light blue eyes widened at that. "I remember! That's my favorite!"

Cassandra hummed in reply, now gently running her hands through the girl's blonde hair. "Why is it your favorite, honey?"

"Because the brave knight is the _bravest_ of them all," the girl said simply, and Cassandra smiled at the almost parroted words. "He'll protect anyone, especially the people he loves," she added, nodding resolutely, her eyes shimmering with awe and admiration.

Cassandra chuckled. "Do you remember that time when the brave knight saved the damsel in distress?"

The girl thought back to the familiar stories. "From the dragon?"

"No, honey," the woman said, and the little girl tilted her head in confusion. "Yes, the brave knight did save the princess from the dragon, but you're forgetting another one."

Charlotte furrowed her eyebrows in thought, but then it clicked. "From the wicked witches?"

"Yes, that one," Cassandra confirmed with a nod. "After saving the princess of his kingdom, he saved _another_ princess from a far away land from the wicked witches."

_I thought it was the same princess?_ the little girl pondered, though still nodded. But then she remembered something important. "But... the hero only saves one princess, right?" she inquired, confused. The hero is suppose to marry the princess so they could live happily ever after, and the brave knight already saved his princess. But why is there another princess?

It's very confusing.

"Honey, the brave knight saves everyone, right?" The girl nodded at that, but her expression shows eagerness for an explanation.

Cassandra pursed her lips, indecisive if she would continue. This is the part that she is wary of revealing. But since the story is disguised as a fairy tale, maybe it won't be as bad as she dreads.

_I really hope not_, she thought, hoping that this kind of explanation would suffice for now. Gulping inaudibly, she continued, "he was about to be married to the first princess. But when he met the second princess, he realized that she is his one true love."

Charlotte's eyes widened at the revelation. "Really?" she asked, and suddenly it all makes sense.

The woman nodded. "So the brave knight left his kingdom to be with the second princess and they lived happily ever after," she finished, observing her daughter's reaction.

The girl is quiet, seemingly processing the words. "But happened to the first princess?" she asked, almost whispering. "She didn't get her happily ever after..." she trailed off, feeling bad for the first princess. Although the brave knight - her hero - found his true love, he did leave her.

_Poor princess..._ she thought.

"Oh, she did," Cassandra corrected with a reassuring smile and the little girl perked at that. "Because before the brave knight left, they were both visited by the angel of life and gave them a baby."

"A baby?"

"Yes," the woman confirmed, smiling at her daughter's puzzled expression. "A beautiful baby with golden hair," she said, trailing her hands through the girl's hair, "and eyes the color of the morning sky," she added in an almost whisper, affectionately tracing the blonde eyebrow with both thumbs.

Although Charlotte is just six years of age (_six_ _and a half,_ she insisted), her young mind caught up with what her momma is hinting. "Are you the first princess, Momma?" she tentatively asked.

The woman nodded, her thumbs now rubbing both chubby cheeks. "Your daddy is with his one true love, that's why he isn't here with us. And you know how powerful true love is, don't you?"

The girl nodded. She does know, because her mother told her countless stories of true love and how its power is the greatest of them all. Two people experiencing it can't be without each other, or they'll suffer everlasting heartbreak.

_That makes sense..._ she thought. She remembered Kitty's - her best friend - taunts about not having a dad. It hurts a lot and it made her cry. But now, everything is clear to her.

Suddenly, she felt... _okay_.

"Is he happy?" Charlotte inquired after her long silence.

"Yes, he is," Cassandra assured with a smile, and the little girl smiled back. "And one day, you'll get to meet him and his princess," she promised, hoping that someday it'll be true.

The smile widened, and Charlotte felt like this is the happiest day ever. She may have fought with her best friend (although she knows that they'll be back to playing again when they see each other), but then she found out that the brave knight is her daddy.

And she'll get to see him one day!

Excited, she eagerly bounced on her seat to Cassandra's amusement. "Do they have a baby, too?" she asked, wishing that they do.

"Maybe?"

"I wish they do," Charlotte stated with a bright smile. "I want a sister who looks just like me."

Cassandra chuckled, feeling a mixture of relief and amusement at the child's reaction. She was expecting something on the negative side, but she's thankful that it isn't the case. "I doubt it," she answered, playfully tapping the girl's nose. "You two have different Mommas."

The girl nodded at that, although she wishes that her wish would come true. If both of them looks like their daddy, it could happen. Right?

Later that night, Cassandra tucked in Charlotte in her bed, reminding her that grandma will be visiting tomorrow.

"How long will grandma stay?"

"The whole weekend," Cassandra replied, bending over to kiss the girl's forehead. "Now, go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Momma."

"Goodnight, baby girl."

As the door closes, Charlotte shifted to find a comfortable position as she snuggled deeply into her covers. She then remembered the events today, and she giggled.

"My daddy is real," she whispered in the dark, slightly illuminated by the dim lights provided by her night-light. "And he is the brave knight," she added, her chest swelling with warm affection at the hero she got to know through her mother's stories.

_I hope he is happy with his one true love..._ she mused as her eyes started to droop with sleep. She is now excited for Monday so she could share what she now knows to Kitty.

* * *

Five years ago:

"She wanted you to have this," the old woman said, handing over a thick envelope. "Actually, she's planning on giving it to you when you're eighteen, but..." she trailed off, her expression morphing into controlled agony. Charlotte saw a wayward tear slipping from green eyes, but the old woman immediately wiped it away.

"Anyway, the information about your father is there," the old woman added. "We'll go visit him after a month."

The young girl pursed her lips, observing the old woman. She is frail, her brown hair streaked with whites. She used to be a strong, jolly woman who cooks Charlotte's favorites every time she visits. But now, her sickness is starting to corrupt her body and it clearly shows. "But grandma," Charlotte said carefully. "I can't just leave you. You need someone here."

The old woman turned to look at the girl, green eyes softening. "Charlie," she said, sitting on the chair opposite of the young girl. Charlotte quirked a slight smile at the nickname. "I'm an old woman. I wouldn't be able to take care of you."

"But..."

The older woman sighed before reaching out to envelop the twelve-year old's hands. "I wouldn't be able to give you the things you would need. Your father, on the other hand, can give it to you easily."

"But grandma..."

"Charlie," the old woman said firmly. "I'm just worried about you. I want you to have a normal childhood, and taking care of your grandma will take that away from you."

Charlotte pursed her lips at the thought. Her eyes then landed towards the table in between them where the envelope lays. Inside is everything her childhood dream is about. If she would follow her grandma's instruction, she could finally see him.

The brave knight.

But when she looked up, she saw her grandma's face that reflects her condition. By today's standards, sixty-four years old is still somewhat young for an elderly woman. But years of tireless working as a single mother took a toll on the old woman's health. Coupled with the added stress in helping Cassandra with her battle against cancer, it was almost too much.

Pale blue eyes welled in tears at the memory of her mother. Like her grandma, she raised a hand to wipe it off with the back of her hand. Three months is still not enough to mourn, and yet she was glad that at least Cassandra's suffering has finally ended.

_I know she's in heaven_, Charlotte thought, remembering the final smile before her mother's last breath. _Momma is too nice to not be there_, she insisted firmly, and the pain in her chest subsided a little at those comforting thoughts. She then re-focused her attention to the old woman in front of her who is quietly waiting for her words.

"No," the young woman insisted, arranging her voice to be firm. "I want to stay here, grandma," she insisted. And when the old woman opened her mouth to protest, Charlotte immediately captured the woman's hands. "I can always find my father later. So please, don't send me away," she pleaded, looking straight through emerald orbs.

The old woman looks indecisive as she opened and closed her mouth, trying to find something to say. But then Charlotte stood up and walked towards the seated old woman, wrapping her arms around and squeezing.

"You need someone here to take care of you," Charlotte softly said, although it conveyed finality. The young girl then kissed the older woman's white-streaked hair, and they both stayed that way for a long time.

_The brave knight can wait..._ Charlotte thought as she glanced towards the sealed envelope, hoping that the future will bring something good.

* * *

Three weeks ago:

"Excuse me?"

The receptionist looked up from the computer and did a double-take. "Quinn?"

Charlotte blinked, surprised that the receptionist knew her name. She shrugged it off as a simple mistaken identity before giving a friendly smile. "I'm Charlotte Fabray," she corrected, opting to not add her second name to lessen the confusion. "Is Mr. Russell Fabray working here?"

The baffled woman, who is currently staring at the blonde girl intently, perked up when Charlotte gave her name. "Just a minute," she said, wheeling her chair towards a phone nearby. The young woman observed how she lifted the handset and pressed a button.

"Sir? There's someone named Charlotte Fabray here who wants to see you," the receptionist relayed on the receiver, her eyes flitting towards the girl every few seconds. Although confused, Charlotte just maintained her smile as she observed the receptionist's imperceptible nodding. "Right away, sir."

"Come with me, Ms. Fabray," the receptionist stated before standing up leading the way towards the office. They passed by a couple of doors, all bearing names of architects and engineers, before they reached the furthest door.

"Hello," a blonde man greeted as soon as the young woman stepped inside the spacious office. The man then gestured for her to sit on a chair in front of the office desk before he sits on his leather chair.

As soon as they both settled, Charlotte's eyes immediately roamed, soaking up the image of the smiling man in front of her. He is tall, imposing without being intimidating, and muscled. His hair is light blonde, lighter than her mother's and probably similar to hers.

And when she observed his face, she felt her heart skipped at his eyes: it was the same as hers, down to the shape, eyelashes, and eye color.

_This is really him.._. Charlotte trailed off, her heartbeat accelerating at the thought. She remembered the pictures of a much younger man - a teenager, really - which was shown to her by her grandma years ago. The vision of before and of today is not dissimilar, although she noticed a few permanent crinkles near the eyes that's absent from the photos.

_After all these years..._ She then felt the telltale signs of moisture surfacing from her eyes, but she reeled it in.

The blonde man, noticing that the young woman is not going to speak any time soon, cleared his throat. "A Fabray?" he started, chuckling good-heartedly. The sound snapped Charlotte from her trance-like observation as Russell continued. "I didn't expect a relative to visit," he commented, resting his elbow atop the desk.

"So, what can I do for you?"

Charlotte paused at the question, her grip on her shoulder bag unconsciously tightening. She closed her eyes - Russell looked on, curious at the peculiar action - before taking a huge breath. Exhaling, she opened them and saw her father's expectant expression.

"My name is Charlotte Quinn Fabray and I'm your daughter, sir."

* * *

Two weeks ago:

"Hello, Charlotte."

The young woman smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Fabray," she greeted as the older woman sat at the table, Russell in tow.

"Call me Judy," the older woman corrected with a slight smile. As soon as the couple settle in, she gestured for a waiter and gave their order. "So, Russell and I talked and we decided that you stay with us while you're here in Ohio," she said after a few seconds.

Charlotte gave and shy smile as she tucks a loose hair stand behind an ear. "I don't want to impose-"

"Nonsense, Charlotte," Russell cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "You're welcome to stay with us, I mean," "you're my daughter." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. The young woman smiled brightly at the words before glancing at Judy.

"You're welcome to stay," Judy agreed, and the young woman saw the slight smile widening a bit. Charlotte observed the woman's eyes - beautiful hazel pair - and saw the sincerity there. The young woman then nodded with a thankful smile, relieved that the dread that accumulated days before meeting the woman is unfounded.

"Now," Russell piped in, giving the older blonde an adoring look before turning to Charlotte, "do you have any baggages with you?"

"Just a few clothes, sir-"

The blonde man tut-tutted. "It's Dad."

Charlotte gave a shy smile. "Just a few clothes... Dad," she almost whispered the last word, though the smile is still present. "And they're in my hotel."

"Wait, did you traveled here _alone_?" Judy asked, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

The young blonde nodded. "I- My grandma just passed away, and I don't really know any more relatives."

The older woman nodded distractedly before turning her attention to her husband. Charlotte saw a silent communication passing back and forth between the two. And after a few moments, Russell nodded before smiling brightly at the young girl. "That settles it, then," he said. "You're not just staying with us, but you'll be _living_ with us from now on."

The young woman widened her eyes at that, not expecting the invitation. Sure, her grandma wanted to send her to live with Russell five years ago, but she never thought that it would be offered so readily.

"Charlotte," Russell said when he noticed the wary expression. "I may still be a stranger to you, but I'm still your father. I will take care of you, I promise," he stated firmly.

The young woman listened, absorbing the words. She remembered the stories from long ago of a brave knight that saves everyone.

Then she smiled, nodding. "Okay, Dad."

* * *

Three days ago:

"Are these all your things?"

"Yes," Charlotte replied as they hauled the medium-sized traveling bag into the car's compartment. "The rest are still back in Florida. A friend of my grandma is watching over our house while I visit."

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow at that. "But you're going to stay with us from now on, right?" she lightly admonished, and Charlotte slightly giggled at the slight smile.

"Yes, Judy," the young blonde agreed before the two settled inside the car. The journey to the Fabray household is filled with light conversations, mostly about Judy's inquiries about Charlotte's life. Charlotte also found out that she has a sister.

"How old is she?" the young blonde can't help but ask.

"Same age as you? Give and take a few months."

_I have a sister!_ she thought excitedly with a wide smile, and the older woman beside her smiled at the younger blonde's reaction.

Forty minutes later and they're now pulling over at a fairly large house. It won't be considered as a mansion, although it seems spacious enough. Inside, the first thing that Charlotte noticed is the large painting near the fireplace. It was of three figures, and the young woman is immediately drawn at the image of a small, smiling girl.

"Is this..?"

"Yes, that's Lucy," Judy confirmed, stepping closer to Charlotte with a tall glass of iced tea in one hand. The young woman murmured a "thanks", and the older woman's lips quirked with small smile at Charlotte's awed expression.

She knows exactly what brought it out.

"She looks... almost like me..." Charlotte almost whispered, her eyes widening at the similar eyes - except the color - and the similar facial structure that's hidden beneath a slightly chubbier cheeks. Although the hair is a darker shade of blonde (_strawberry-blonde?_ she wondered) that's similar to Judy and the nose is slightly different, she and Lucy can be considered as twins.

"Yeah," the older blonde agreed as she stepped closer, also looking up at the portrait. "Although I think that's your only similarity."

"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked almost absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving the smiling girl as she sipped on her beverage.

"Lucy can be a bit... difficult," the older blonde explained, chuckling lightly at the puzzled expression. "I love my daughter, don't get me wrong, but she can be a brat," she finished.

Charlotte smiled indulgently, intrigued. It is so surreal to know that someone - a sister, nonetheless - looks just like her, and yet so different at the same time.

There's a ringing of the phone, and the older blonde fished out her phone from her coat pocket. "Yes?" she said, stepping away for privacy. And as Judy conversed with someone on the phone, Charlotte tear her eye away from the painting and surveyed the house.

"Charlotte?"

The younger blonde turned to look at Judy who is sporting an apologetic expression. "I need to get back to the hospital now," the older woman explained, gesturing at the phone. "Can you stay here while I go sort things out?"

"Of course," Charlotte agreed, smiling. The older woman smiled back and promised that she'll be back after half an hour. The young woman nodded and Judy strutted to the door, saying that she should make herself at home before fetching the lab gown that's draped on the sofa.

The young woman heard the roaring off the car before it drove off. She then walked towards the sofa and sat down.

Thirty minutes turned to fifty, and Charlotte surmised that it was probably busy at the hospital. She picked the iced tea, toyed with the straw, and sipped a little.

She then heard footsteps. Pale blue eyes looked up, expecting the doctor. But when it opened, it revealed two unexpected figures.

"Whoah, another Barbie," a pretty, exotic-looking girl exclaimed with wide eyes. But Charlotte's attention is focused on the other girl.

"Who are you?"

"Hi! You're home," the blue-eyed blonde chirped before standing up. She observed the other blonde: her stature is almost similar to Charlotte although more athletic-looking, her hair's color is lighter than the little girl in the painting, and her eyes are the same shape as hers but with the same beautiful hazel color that's identical to Judy's.

_It's really her..._ she thought, eager to finally meet her sister who has her hazel eyes narrowed.

"Yes, and you're not answering my question," the other blonde retorted, arms crossing at her chest. Judy's description flitted in the forefront of Charlotte's mind when she saw the other blonde's demeanor.

_She really is different... _she thought before snapping back to reality when she saw how the other blonde is impatiently tapping her foot. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just excited that I finally get to meet you," the blue-eyed blonde said, feeling embarrassed for her lack of manners.

Still smiling, she came closer with an offer of a handshake. "My name is Charlotte Quinn Fabray, and I'm your half-sister."

The blue-eyed blonde observed the different emotions morphing from one to another: shock, incredulity, anger, and then irritated disbelief. A crease formed in between Charlotte's eyebrows at that, thoroughly confused.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" the other blonde retorted with a dark chuckle, not accepting the proffered hand. Charlotte's felt the sting of rejection, confused at the other girl's behavior.

_I thought Judy said that she will explain to Lucy the situation before they meet?_ she wondered.

_Wait..._ She paused, remembering that thirty minutes has now passed since Judy is suppose to come back.

Pale blue eyes widened in realization.

"You don't know?" Charlotte asked, gasping. She wasn't expecting this. "I'm so sorry! I thought you knew..." she added, feeling a slight panic that's bubbling in her chest.

_This is not good..._ the blue-eyed blonde thought, observing the annoyance and anger dancing in hazel eyes.

"Miss... If you're a relative of mine, then fine. But could you please stop with this joke? It's not funny."

"I'm sorry that you found out this way, but I'm not joking," Charlotte carefully explained, her mind racing as she stepped closer. "I really am your sister Luc-"

"Don't you dare say that name!" the other blonde shouted and Charlotte flinched in surprise. "My name is Quinn, the one that you also have on your name which you're not suppose to have because I have no sister!"

"I'm sorry," the blue-eyed blonde whispered, expression softening. _This isn't suppose to be happening..._ she thought, feeling terrible at the other blonde's distress. She's fully aware of the posibility that her sister won't accept her with open arms. But she wasn't exactly prepared to explain herself when the other blonde seems to not have any idea of the situation.

"No, don't apologize to me, stranger. Just take back what you said."

Charlotte felt a constriction in her chest at the repeated mention of being a 'stranger', but she can't exactly fault the other blonde. "But-"

"Lucy," a stern voice was heard, and the blue-eyed blonde sighed with relief at seeing Judy. "Calm yourself and go meet me at your Dad's office."

"But this girl-"

"Now," Judy insisted, and Charlotte saw how her sister immediately complied.

The older blonde stepped closer to them. "Charlotte, wait here while I talk to my daughter. Santana there," she then pointed at the exotic-looking that the blue-eyed girl had almost forgotten, "will keep you company. Right, Santana?"

"Of course, Judy," the exotic-looking girl agreed with a nod.

"Good," the older blonde nodded back before turning to her daughter. "Come, Lucy. You know how I hate waiting."

The hazel-eyed blonde whipped her head to glower at Charlotte before following her mother's footsteps. A strong sense of regret gripped Charlotte before a loud clearing of throat called her attention.

Santana gestured for the blonde to follow her back in the living room. The two sat down opposite of each other, and Charlotte felt the intense staring.

"Sooo... are you _really_ Blondie's half-sister?" the exotic-looking girl asked, an eyebrow raised.

Charlotte gave a friendly smile. "Yes."

Santana's eyebrow raised further. "Huh," she said before simultaneously crossing her arms at her chest and a leg atop the other. Charlotte noticed how the other girl's impressive cleavage is almost spilling from the low neckline and she can't help but stare.

_Are those real?_ the blonde can't help but wonder, but she was snapped from her thoughts with another throat-clearing. Charlotte looked up and blushed at Santana's smirk.

"Are you sure you aren't just one of those who looks like other people? And in your case, who looks _unfortunately_ like Blondie?" Santana bluntly questioned and the blonde - cheeks still tinged with pink - tilted her head at the question.

"Because let me tell you," the exotic-looking girl continued without waiting for an answer, "the number of people who mistook me for Penelope Cruz is _ridiculously_ high."

Charlotte can't help but giggle at that. "No, I really am her sister."

Santana narrowed her dark eyes. "Okay, let's assume I'm buying your 'story'," she said, air-quoting. "But what's your deal? Like, are you here so you can get your child support money?"

The blonde shook her head. "No, my mother never asked for that."

"Claim your inheritance?"

"No."

The exotic-looking girl leaned closer to her. "Maybe kill the other Blondie and take over her life?" she almost whispered conspirationaly.

Charlotte giggled again to the other girl's confusion. She knows she shouldn't because this girl is basically questioning her motives, but she can't help it. Every words that's coming out of the other girl's lips is so familiar to her.

_She's just like Kitty... _she thought, smiling at Santana's puzzled expression. "No, I would never do that to my own sister."

"Fascinating," the exotic-girl deadpanned, slumping back to the sofa. "But seriously though, are you _sure_ you're not a clone sent to assassinate Quinn? Because whoever sent you did a good job," she commented, gesturing to all of Charlotte.

"Thank you."

Santana narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "That wasn't a compliment."

"I took it as one," Charlotte chirped, smiling brightly. "And no. My grandma died and I wanted to see my father. But then Dad insisted that I stay here in Ohio with them."

"Oh," the exotic-looking girl just said, nodding once. "Well that's boring," she commented with an eye roll as she uncrossed her arms. She then raised an eyebrow again when she noticed something. "Why are you staring?"

The blonde smiled brightly. "I'm sorry, but you just remind me of someone," she explained, remembering another blonde back in Florida whose main hobby consists of trying to (unsuccessfully) rile up Charlotte.

Santana rolled her eyes at that. "Well, good for her for being hot," she said, flipping her raven locks. "Can you please stop smiling, though? It's creeping me out."

"Sorry."

The exotic-looking girl huffed slightly before her darks eyes glanced at the corridor that the mother and daughter disappeared into. "What's taking them so long?" she murmured to herself and pale blue eyes flitted towards the same direction.

Remembering the events earlier, Charlotte decided to use this opportunity to get to know her sister, albeit from someone else. "So... how long have you been Lucy's friend?"

Santana sighed. "I suggest you stop calling her Lucy," she explained, her tone serious.

The blonde tilted her head in curiosity. "Why?"

"She hates that name," the exotic-looking girl said simply. "Only Judy is allowed to call her that. Just an advice," she shrugged. "But if you continue calling her that, she'll always freak on you."

Charlotte nodded, remembering the earlier events. She and her sister already got on the wrong foot, and she's going to make sure that it won't happen again. "Thanks," she said with a bright smile, and the Santana huffed while grumbling "creepy smiles" under her breath.

* * *

Two days ago:

"How's your stay here so far?"

She paused, remembering Luc- _Quinn_, and she cringed a bit. It wasn't exactly the best first meeting, and it's very disappointing especially since she's been looking forward to meeting her sister. "It's fine, Daddy."

Russell gave a knowing smile before cutting into his pancakes. "Quinn isn't exactly the most agreeable person, Charlotte," he explained as the blonde nodded absentmindedly. "Don't worry, she'll come around."

Charlotte gave a smile, hoping that her father's words are true. She hasn't seen Quinn since the yesterday, and she wanted to apologize for her actions yesterday.

_I hope she'll talk to me_, she thought as she took a forkful of pancakes. The two ate in moderate silence, few chats falling every now and then.

It wasn't as strange as Charlotte dreaded because Russell is a very good conversationalist. He asked questions about Charlotte's childhood in Florida and also answered Charlotte's questions.

"How about we go for a ride?" Russell suggested as he drank his coffee.

Charlotte finished her own tea as the blonde man started getting up. "Where are we going?"

Russell smiled. "You'll see."

The trip took no more than ten minutes. Charlotte observed the houses and buildings as she answers a few more questions. After a while, the car slowed down and stopped

"This a special place," the blonde man explained as he gestured towards a large park. "Cassandra and I used to go here a lot. And no, not because of teenage hormones," he quipped, and Charlotte giggled - albeit a bit weirded out - at that.

The two walked towards it, and Charlotte noticed teenage girls jogging around the park wearing short shorts and a red top that says 'WMHC'. She also noticed some mothers pushing strollers and some dog owners playing with frisbees with their dogs.

The two blonde chose to sit at a bench near the large fountain. "Did you know your mother and I met at an art workshop?" Russell inquired as soon as they sat, and Charlotte shook her head. There are a lot of things she didn't know about the two of them.

"I think it was in middle-school. We were asked to draw nature and all that girly things," he continued, rolling his eyes playfully as Charlotte giggled. "But I wanted to draw sky scrapers, car designs, and mansions," he explained, and the blonde girl saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm fascinated with shapes, lines, and how we can draw anything out of essentially nothing. I mean nature," he said, one hand gesturing in front of him, "is already here. It's everywhere. Why bother recreating something in paper if you could just look around you?"

"But no..." Russell said with an eye roll, and Charlotte mused at how childish her father can act sometimes. "Our tutor says that I don't appreciate nature, and 'artists'," he air-quoted and Charlotte chuckled, suddenly remembering Santana, "should. So he paired me up with an 'artist'."

"And yes, that was your mom," the blonde man said, and Charlotte can't help but smile at that. "We were here every day for a week just so we can both finish our assignment. It was a nightmare for me," he said, chuckling at the memory. "She's always hovering over me and saying that I should look within myself, etcetera. I just don't get it."

"But then one day, she just _gave_ me her assignment," Russell explained, amusement clear on her expression. "It was an unfinished painting of this park, and she told me to draw what I want."

"She told me to add buildings, houses, and whatever I like in her drawing. She said that nature and man's innovation can co-exist without having to eliminate the other. It would be an amalgamation of two artist, she said."

"The result is amazing," Russell gushed, and Charlotte can see the pride in his expression. "It's like we re-invented how this park would look like. And even today, I say that that was the best work I've ever done."

"And..." Russell trailed off as the blue-eyed blonde waited, "we got a zero," he finished, chuckling at the blonde girl's incredulous reaction. "It's an individual work," he explained with a shrug, and Charlotte nodded.

"But you know what? It didn't matter in the end," the blonde man said, smiling toothily. "Because I found someone who understands me. A kindred spirit, if you must. Yes, we were different people, but our views are essentially the same."

"That was the start of us becoming close. Years later, we became a couple."

Russell then sighed, and Charlotte also paused to ponder. It was strange to hear these things, although it fascinates her. "She was my best friend... Well, one of my best friends," he added, and the blonde girl wonders if the other one is Judy.

The two blonde observed their environment, both lost in thought. Charlotte noticed one woman - a brunette - who sat down on the bench opposite of them. The woman then scooped up a baby and started playing with him, cooing as the boy babbled in delight.

_Why did Mom hide me?_ she can't help but ask as her eyes followed the brunette's movements. She is in now cradling the boy in her lap as she gently stuck a pacifier on his mouth, cooing affectionately all the while.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you're growing up," Russell said, breaking the silence. "If I knew, believe me when I say that I'll do anything to be involved in your life."

Charlotte continued to observed the mother and son as she contemplates before turning around to face her father. "It's okay. I believe you," she said with a smile, meaning every word. Although she had some doubts growing up, she can see now how willing and eager her father is in getting to know her.

But then she remembered her mother and how intent she was at keeping Charlotte a secret. "Do you hate what Mom did?"

Russell lounged on the bench, sighing. "I'm sure she had her reasons," he commented. "Maybe she thought it would ruin Judy and I."

Charlotte nodded in agreement, remembering the stories of the brave knight. She remember that day when Cassandra told the story of the second princess and the brave knight's true love. She remembered the first princess, and the desire to ask what happened burns in her chest.

"But still..." the blonde man trailed off, and Charlotte saw an affectionate smile directed at her, unfamiliar but welcomed.

A smile of a father.

"You're here now, right?" Russell added, and the blonde girl smiled widely at that.

_Yes, I'm finally here_, she thought, smiling back. At the end of it all, it doesn't matter whether Cassandra hid her for her protection or _his_ protection. Because here they are, a father and a daughter, sitting side-by-side in a park.

Today is what matters more, and Charlotte decided not to ruin today. She could just ask later.

"Right," she chirped, and the two of them settled in, watching and pointing at the playing dogs and their owners.

* * *

Present:

The Volkswagen halted and the driver killed the engine. She slumped, her forehead resting on the wheel, before letting loose the frustrated tears.

It took almost ten minutes before she is calm enough to breath properly. She then straightened up and reached for her purse at the passenger seat. Unzipping the green bag, she took out a packet of tissue that she always make sure to carry. She then blotted her eyes and her cheeks before looking up at the rear-view mirror to check her face.

Her pale blues are shimmery, emphasized by the red-rimming surrounding it. Her nose is red, and even her whole face is flushed. Sighing, she cleaned as much as she could - even fixing her hair - before fishing out the keys from the ignition and getting out of the car.

It is past 12 a.m., and she knew that straying on an unpopulated area isn't the smartest thing to do, but she needed to breath. If she goes home now, she might break down if Judy calls again to check up on Quinn.

The blonde walked towards the park bench that she and Russell had sat two days ago. She sat down - always gracefully - and looked around as she contemplated what her sister had said.

_But I'm not her sister..._ she thought as she remembered the other girl's harsh words. Tears started welling again as she recalled the hurtful words. It cuts deep, not because it's not true, but because she saw how Quinn _believes_ it.

She saw how it's hurting Quinn and she feels terrible.

_Is it too much, too soon?_ the blonde thought as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. She hadn't meant to do the things that Quinn is accusing of. It's never her intention, although maybe it could be misconstrued that way.

Charlotte is just happy that she found another family. She may have lost her mother and her grandma, but now she has Russell, Judy, and Quinn.

_But I'm not her sister..._ she reminded herself again at the thought of Quinn, and she sobbed. It's like being reminded that she won a lottery, but then the lottery ticket got stolen the minute she took it out of her pocket.

_Quinn hates me..._ is Charlotte's final thoughts before she heard something. It was soft footsteps and it's coming her way.

"Hey..." an unfamiliar voice said. The blonde looked up - teary eyed still - and saw a blurry image of a girl a few feet from her.

"Are you alright?" the strange girl repeated as she tentatively came closer, and Charlotte hastily wiped her eyes with tissues.

"Yeah..." the blonde replied with a friendly smile. Although the girl is a stranger and it is unwise to entertain one, Charlotte can feel that the girl is not dangerous.

"Are you sure?" the girl asked, politely gesturing at the bench, presumably asking permission to sit beside the blonde.

Charlotte complied by scooting over to the left, and the girl sat, crossing her legs that's covered by a short, plaided skirt.

"It's just... I saw you while I was driving," the girl then pointed at a white Prius parked beside the Volkswagen, "and I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

The blonde was surprised that she didn't hear a car coming, but then smiled at the touching sentiment from a stranger. It made her feel slightly better knowing that there are really good people out there. "I'm okay, really. Just... fought with my sister," she said with a half-hearted chuckle.

The other girl made an 'oh' face before nodding. "I understand. I mean I don't, because I don't have one," the strange girl said, furrowing her dark eyebrows and Charlotte can't help but giggle at the girl's reaction. "Although my friends in New York always tell me that they can be a pain," the girl said with a grin, glad that she managed to make the crying girl laugh.

The blonde nodded, although her smile faded when she remembered Quinn again. Seeing the change in expression, the stranger cleared her throat. "But still, you're siblings. It may not be my area of expertise, but I can confidently say that it'll pass."

"I hope so," Charlotte murmured, getting new sets of tissue but realizing that she's all out. But then tanned hands offered a handkerchief and the blonde smiled gratefully. She blotted her eyes with the star-patterned handkerchief as the girl continues.

"I know so," she stated confidently, flipping her brown locks. "Maybe give each other some breathing space for a couple of days?"

"I guess so," Charlotte said, smiling. The brunette smiled back, her dimples clearly showing despite the darkness.

"Maybe sing her a song? Wait, can you sing?" the brunette asked, dark eyebrows furrowed in thought. "It doesn't matter, I can teach you myself. Or maybe I could sing to her myself so she'll be so amazed that she won't get mad at you anymore."

The blonde giggled at the girl's enthusiasm, the pain of earlier events slowly fading away. "You're a singer?"

"Yes," the brunette stated, her doe eyes clearly expressing pride. "I'm in Broadway. I already did a couple of shows back in New York."

"That's amazing," Charlotte said, smiling.

"Well, it takes a lot to achieve my kind of voice. Lots of hard work," the other girl explained with a brilliant smile. "How about you? Do you sing?"

"A little. I used to sing in our church," the blonde said. "But probably not as good as you, though," she added with a chuckle.

"Nonsense," the other girl dismissed, waving a hand. "Anyone can sing as long as they work for it. With my help, you'll be better than before."

Charlotte smiled. "Thanks," she said, really appreciating it. She glanced at her wristwatch and her eyes widened at the time. "I think I'll be going now. It's late," she explained as she stood up.

The brunette also stood up. "Are you fine to drive? I could always drive you if you want," she offered, gesturing at the white Prius.

The blonde shook her head politely. "It's okay, I feel better now," she said with a smile. As she was about to turn around, she almost face-palmed when she realized something.

"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" Charlotte said, embarrassed, as she turned around to face the girl. "My name is Charlotte," she said, offering her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Charlotte," the brunette chirped with a dimpled smile before accepting the proffered hand. "My name is Rachel. Rachel Berry."

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

**A/N:** There we go! Cinderella and Princess Charming finally met. :)

Remember: Charlotte is Cinderella, Quinn is the step-sister, and Rachel is the Princess. Although this won't follow the typical Cinderella adaptation, certain roles must be established first before furthering with the story.

That is all. :)


End file.
